


Limelight on a Burning Stage

by HoneyBaby (HoneyEmrys)



Series: The World is A Stage [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: A confused badass, Alastor Being a Jerk (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor being a gentleman (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor is Bad at Feelings (Hazbin Hotel), And a Stage Is a World Of Entertainment, Angst, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Crime, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Killing, Murder, Newbie Alastor, Obsession, Romance, Serial Killers, Suicide, The Beginning, The World is a Stage, Tragedy, Violence, reader is a badass, x Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21660301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoneyEmrys/pseuds/HoneyBaby
Summary: It began 1933, where two humans much unlike each other had died and fallen to Hell. You were one of them. The moment you had fallen, you had little to no recollection of your life on Earth, but whatever it was, you likely deserved it. You were determined to achieve one thing, and only one thing-- a relatively peaceful afterlife, without a greed for anything else. There was no care of what you had to do to achieve it, but whatever sin it had to be, you were willing to do it to get what you want.But that greed for the seemingly simple need was what lead you to making the worst mistake in your afterlife: meeting him.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Original Female Character(s), Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/You
Series: The World is A Stage [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564423
Comments: 60
Kudos: 479





	1. Wolf in Sheep's Clothing

The first thing you experienced was sight. You opened your eyes to the color red. It was beautiful, you thought. It was clear, only faint signs of a dark gradience all over the canvas that adored your sight. 

A second later, you felt things. You were in excruciating pain. Your body felt like it was on fire, and in addition to that, it was like you fell down towards the ground floor of a ten-storey building while colliding on each floor. 

The last thing was relief. You don't know why you felt it, nor do you remember anything prior to this. Regardless, and oddly enough, you felt relief crawl into your chest, taking away the pain that was akin to being suffocated.

It took awhile to process what was going on. You were lying on the ground, and wherever you collided was dented, cracking the asphalt. It was a shame, whoever worked on this would have a terrible time fixing it up. You sat up from your original position, and assessed your surroundings. Everything was just debris, and ruin. What you first saw was the sky, and much to your initial knowledge, there seemed to be no sun in sight. It was just red, and beautiful.

You wish you could say the same about everything that was below it. While far away from here was brimming with life and lights, there seemed to be nothing around here. It was desolate, destroyed, and utterly disgusting to look at. You don’t know how you got here, nor do you remember who you even are.

It dawned on you that you’d lost most of your memories, no matter how hard you looked, you can’t seem to remember anything helpful. Memories of your childhood, maybe, but whatever that could lead to this event? _Nada_. You didn’t really know if that was a blessing or a curse, because whatever caused for you to be here didn’t seem so nice. 

Regardless, you took a stand and studied yourself. You looked down at your body, seeing more things than you thought you were supposed to have. For one, you were quite certain that you weren’t supposed to be _this_ pale. You were paler than a sheet of paper, which wasn’t possible. It wasn’t colorless, though. It had your tone, but it was like your skin had missed a decade’s worth of sunlight-- and it looked _raw._ It was the same as seeing a shaved animal, but it wasn’t as blemished. But your hands, they weren’t the same. It seemed to be black up to your elbows, making your nails look rather sinister with the combined color. Oh, your nails, they were rather sharp. They were sharp enough to do some damage if you weren’t careful-- _or if you were being reckless_.

You shake your head, away with that. There was an odd sense of excitement in your head the moment you thought of the mere act of digging your hands into someone’s throat. You could already feel the blood thrumming through your veins as theirs crawl on your skin.

Chills went up your spine the moment you thought of it. You don’t understand why-- what was with this weird… mindset of yours? It felt foreign, odd, and utterly _exciting._

To distract yourself from whatever _that_ was, you started to look somewhere else. You were whole, thank the Heavens (which ironically won’t be something you’d consider to be deserving of your thanks later on). Oddly enough, your clothes seemed rather… weird? You don’t know the proper term for it, but you seemed out of place due to whatever it was that you were wearing. It seemed like some fluffy, pure wool clothing that hugged tightly around your chest and your… bits. It barely covered your body, but it seemed to be enough. You put your hand towards the piece of clothing on your chest to check the fabric, when you felt rather off with the sensation of your hand directly touching your skin.

_Nothing._

You blushed, _that’s not right_ . Instantaneously, you covered yourself in your hair, which was longer than you remembered. It was white. Pure white, and _very_ fluffy. Much like your clothes, the hair was very… poofy. It was a mess of curls, and due to its curls, it looked like you were enveloped by it. Your hair was practically thrice your width, and certainly enough to keep you warm.

This reminds you of the sheep you’d find when you’d go out of town-- wait, did you even live in town? You don’t quite remember. It’s all quite a blur, and you were uncertain of where you call home. 

Speaking of home. You looked around, finding any sort of landmark. If you’d gone by foot, them maybe there was some indication of where it was that you came from or at least a lead somewhere familiar. However, there was nothing. You continued to search, seeing nothing but ruin all over the place. What happened here that caused so much… destruction?

After much walking, you see some signs of life. There was a chatter among countless people, all who were rather busy with their own problems. There were frequenting vending machines popping out of every corner, with lines of people (? They don’t really look like what you remember a human looks like) either pickpocketing each other or handling each other rather… crassly. That wasn’t something you were supposed to be looking at, but there was nothing else to see other than a whole lot of _sinning_.

The moment you walked close, a pang of odor hit your nose, making you want to cry. It stank here, and you had no idea why. The streets were disgusting, but the smell was definitely not because of the dirt or the litter. You looked up, seeing the countless people who were doing sinful things. Something tells you that the horrid scent had come from them.

You thought better against doubting your senses, so you walked further from them. 

Now that you were far away from the desolate area you woke up in, windows that showed reflection seemed to frequent everywhere, so you decided to take a look. Whatever it was that looked back at you was someone you don’t recognize at all, especially since you’d never seen anyone with eyes that glowed yellow. 

Your eyes were stark yellow, and everything about you changed. Your ears weren’t.... Where they were supposed to be. Your eyes had square pupils instead of the regular round ones. You don’t recognize yourself, save for the few features of your face. While you still had what you remember your face was like, your face was rather… innocent to look at. You don’t understand what changed-- was it the color? The frame of white wool around your face? At least you still had that, it was bad enough that your teeth could rip through another person’s neck.

You tore your eyes away from your own reflection, and focused on the ‘people’ around you. While you looked relatively human, they were _beasts_ . All of them were practically animals walking on their hind-legs, acting human. Or maybe they are human, you don’t really know and you don’t have it in you to even ask if they were human-- especially not if you were _naked_.

But there was one prevalent thing around here, and that was the fact that most people around here had _horns_. 

Now you were a positive person ( _you think_ ), and you were certain that the chances of you ending up in hell was most likely close to none. You’ve done bad deeds here and then, but you honestly doubted that _you_ would fall into hell. 

Ah, but how were you so certain that you weren’t a sinner? You don’t even remember what you’ve done to cause this. The world doesn’t make mistakes, and while you wished you were an exception, you knew that this is unlikely to be true at all. Maybe there was a reason you lost your memories. What have you done?

You looked around the area filled with life, death, and _sin_ , and thought of one thing, and only one thing. You weren’t going to die a second time.

~+~

“Hey, Lady, you dropped down here recently didn’cha?” You heard a voice from behind you. He sounded kind, and concerned-- _but he stank_. You turned to look where the voice came from, and saw a neat-looking man who seemed to be rather well-off. He wouldn’t steal from you, that’s for sure, since there wasn’t anything a rich man could steal from a naked girl who was clothed in her own hair.

It had only been less than a day since you’ve fallen, and you saw nothing but sin. There was no bit of kindness around here, and you were absolutely certain that _you_ of all people wouldn’t chance upon a single bit of that rarity around here. You weren’t naive, and you certainly not going to become victim to the vices down here. You were a woman who lost her memories, the memories that had shaped who you were. Now your memories are clouded, with only the experiences in hell in store. Whoever you used to be like, it wasn’t you anymore.

You were in Hell and you plan to fit in. It was a dog-eat-dog world here (sometimes literally), and you weren’t going to lose. 

As for your abnormal sense of smell, it hadn’t failed you one bit. There had been different scents for every ill intent that you sensed. For any sort violence, the scent was akin to blood. Which was suiting because of the term ‘bloodlust’. For any sort of lust, you smelled a pungent mixture of a sweet, floral thing with hints of honey and rotting fruits in it. It was a heavy smell, one that usually felt like it was punching you in the nose. For greed, you smelled iron, or anything that smelled like burning metal. You’ve yet to discover anything else.

“What gave it away?” You asked, your voice small. It was something you observed down here. The small are overlooked while the strong are challenged. You had a card up your sleeve, since people would easily assume that you were weak.

They weren’t wrong, but they seem to forget the fact that _they were weaker_ . “You’re naked, sweetie.” _no shit, sherlock._ The man was an oddly shaped thing. He looked like a gator, or a weird, tiny, Wyvern. Either way, that skin was going to be tough to go through. The man was wearing a rather nice set of clothing, it’d be nice if you took them.

Your mind wandered to your claws, and your sharp set of teeth. Were they sharp enough to cut through that? “Sorry.” Apologies are a rarity down here. A sign of respect might as well be a sign of submission, and to him you were instantly the bottom of the food-chain. To him, you were easy prey.

You had barely missed the smile that flashed to his lips when he heard that, which meant that your plan worked. “No worries, sweet.” He said, the smile turning into one of kindness instead of one of utter malice. “Follow me, I have some clothes that might cover you up.” His scent was one of lust, and you understood what his ill-intentions were the moment he got closer to you.

The claws you had been using on a multitude of people were blood, underneath your hair that seemed to cover your entire frame, making you look small. Your hair wasn’t stained with blood, thankfully. You were a quick and neat killer, and you planned on keeping that. Of course he wouldn’t know. After all, you were a mere lamb in front of a predator.

He made a motion that was like a gentleman leading a woman towards her carriage. It was a chivalrous act to those who might be watching, but to you it was a disgusting move. It was bait. It was a lie.

You weren’t a blatant liar, you just like hiding the truth. 

In a brief moment of opening, your hands were out of your hair, clawing at his eyes. The moment he loses his sight, he loses his life. You sink your claws into his eyes, prompting a cry from the man. He was easy prey, considering the fact that he got a few riches in hell. In a place like this, earning gold meant doing a lot of sin. That’s the only way to climb the hierarchy in hell, and to think that it hadn’t even taken you more than a week to realize this. Before he could say anything, you clawed at his neck. It was a bit harder than you thought, since the eyes were easier to gauge than the skin being broken. You’ve decided that maybe it was time to get a _little dirty_. You bit at his throat, tearing it from its original location. There was a metallic taste that flowed into you palate. The texture of the flesh in your mouth was tough, and you could feel the chambers of his throat with your tongue. It wasn’t very hard to sense it, since the chambers were abnormally bigger than you’d assumed. While it was an amusing sensation, it was not very appealing to your taste, so you spat it out.

It didn’t taste bad, but in Hell it seemed to be akin to an _acquired taste_. “Three.” You said, counting your prey.

You cupped the spurting of blood, restraining his movements until he dies. It would be a shame if the clothes you worked so hard for was drenched in a stranger’s blood. They were such nice clothes, you didn’t want to waste them.

Much to your chagrin, the suit was a stark white matching with bright red patterns at the ends of the clothing. It would be hard to hide those stains, but then again, blood was not an unlikely design around here. You would still rather have clean clothing than blood-stained ones, so you took great care in keeping them clean.

For a person of your stature, you were stronger than you looked. You are able to restrain this lizard looking thing, which meant that you were probably able to take on something stronger. But that was the least of your priorities. It was about time you shed this ‘newbie’ look and try out something else.

You undressed the man, and his button up. It was a few sizes too big, but you were fine with that. The blood red vest was also a bit too big, but you decided to wear it for better cover. It was a shame that his suit was dirty, so you left that to the floor. You decided to skip the pants since what you were wearing was big enough to look like a dress (that, and you’d rather not see what was underneath his bottoms). You took his belt and wrapped it around your waist, so that you didn’t look like a lost child.

Unfortunately, you don’t have any shoes to match so you still looked rather incomplete. Well, it is better than just being naked.

You walked up towards anything with a reflective surface, and decided that you were satisfied with how you looked. A smile grew on your face as you thought that you looked rather stylish, save for the lack of shoes and your overgrown hair. You went back to the corpse and dug down his pants’ pockets. You chanced upon a wedding ring, a wallet, and a pocket watch.

Poor thing, he had a wife that he was about to cheat on. Rest assured, his wife would probably find a better life without him. 

Moments ago you had doubted that you deserved Hell, now you felt confident that you belonged down here. You don’t remember much in your old life, but you do remember that it must have been so _boring_. There aren’t many memories of your family, but from what you can remember, their hands were clean. You doubted that yours was any different, actually, but how would you know? You barely remember anything at all, so now you were building yourself.

The world makes very little mistakes, and you doubted that you were one. If you can’t fight it, join it.

You walked out of the alley, leaving the gator for the smaller demons. It was hell, no one can die a second time-- that was what you thought, until you saw an eerie looking countdown with a number nine on a really tall tower. It seemed to suggest that there was going to be an extermination soon, and if your hunch was correct, then it means that demons _can_ be killed. 

You were just assuming, though. 

And you knew that assumptions in hell are mostly all true.

~+~

On your third day in hell, it was both quiet and chaotic. The countdown on the tall tower was down to six, and everyone was in chaos. Lower demons were running rampant everywhere as the buildings with the bigger demons were empty. There had been people who were running away from areas with a high density so that these ‘exterminators’ wouldn’t hurt them. 

You hadn’t spoken to anyone unless you were in the middle of a trade, which is why you were very afraid. You knew nothing down here, and with the growing population of newcomers, you bet that they were all either being mauled at or were roaming around clueless. However, you were very keen to listen to everyone around you who you think knew more about being in Hell than anyone else.

Based on what you knew, you were likely to die at the hands of an angel.

Being a newbie with no property, no weapons, and no name, you were basically dead meat enough as it is. You have nothing to protect yourself with. You were practically hopeless down here, especially since you hadn’t had a single ‘friend’ down here. No one wants to help another person in Hell, and you weren’t going to be the exception.

However, you also had no plans to dying anytime soon, so you devised a plan. You were a no-named lamb roaming the streets of hell with clothes that was _obviously_ ‘lent’ to you. You were practically a kid in their eyes, which is why you were likely to become a target of scamming, deception, and false sense of security.

You plan to use that to your advantage again.

So here you were, roaming around the streets of Hell with a forlorn, lost look in your eyes. You hugged yourself, making you look like you were freezing (on the contrary, you were very warm under your comfortable hair). You looked around, seeing if there was anyone willing to take the bait.

There was one, but he wasn’t one who you’d expected.

Someone had briskly pulled you out of the streets and into a little hole that couldn’t be easily spotted. It had happened so fast that he didn’t even give you an opportunity to yelp. Normally you’d realize that someone was planning to kidnap you through a sudden burst of a scent, but you were completely dull to this one. The place where you were brought was hidden well. It was hidden in between two houses, and far from the sights of any demon with their current, panicked mindset. You recalled having to go down a set of stairs, and you figured that you were probably underground. Despite being in Hell, it was abnormally cold down here-- even for you, who was covered in so much wool. The space in this hiding place wasn’t too big, but it was enough for at least six people to fit in with a bit of leg room. The height of the room wasn’t tall, but your stature made it look just right for your size. You scoffed-- you had shrunk. There weren’t much furniture around here, and it was very… bland, and empty. 

In the middle was your kidnapper, one with stark red hair that was darker at the tips, and ears that was of the same color. Beside his ears were horns that resembled antlers. The sclera of his eyes were red, and in the middle were the iris of his eyes which was also red, but brighter, and glowing. He was a very tall man, taller than you, but he was also rather thin. His skin was of an ashened grey, though he didn’t look as deathly as his skin. He looked quite the opposite. He was a very cheerful looking person who held a smile on his lips, making up for the rags that he was wearing. In addition to that, it seemed that he had an ongoing static noise around him. It was like he made the noise himself, which was very uncomfortable on your part because the sound was so _eerie_.

He was like any demon you’d seen before, but his smell suggested otherwise. His scent was clean, and he didn’t want to make you vomit. There were small tinges of blood in the smell, but it was likely because he was hungry. Not a hint of floral nor metal wafted to your nose, which made this entire ordeal very suspicious.

You’d never smelled anyone like him, which is why you didn’t drop your guard. A Demon was a Demon, and whatever made them so was a reason in itself to not trust anyone. “What do you want from me?” You asked immediately, sparing the both of you the pain of awkward first encounters.

The smiling demon tilted his head, pointing at you. It was rather confusing since you didn’t know _what_ he was pointing at, and since you smelled nothing but tinges of blood. You truly didn’t know what he wanted from you. “What?”

He motioned his hair, then pointed back at you.

Now you understood what he wanted. “You want my... _hair_?” You questioned, to which he nodded. This time he motioned his fingers spinning around each other, the chirp of the static getting louder. “You want me to spin it into yarn?” And again, he nodded. There was no smell on him now, all signs of blood disappeared from his scent. The only thing you could smell now was the wooden walls that kept the soil from his underground, hidden place. 

“Sorry, I don’t really know how.” You said, to which he shrugged. He motioned a wave. You assume that he was trying to say that it was fine, but you can only guess. The smiling demon raised his hands, showing his palms towards you, and he backed away towards a drawer. He pulled the drawer, and revealed a pair of threateningly sharp scissors. Your breathing hitched as you stand your ground and snarled at him with your teeth, but again he raised his hands. It was like he was approaching an animal that no doubt was willing to bite at his throat and eat him up for dinner-- which is what you were considering the moment you felt threatened.

But again, the lack of blood in his scent made you hesitantly drop your guard. For once in the three days you’ve been in Hell, you like you couldn’t trust your own senses. 

He approached you, but he was holding the sharp end of the scissors, leaving the handle for you to hold. He reached out, as if giving you the weapon.

You felt your bloodlust rise when you held the scissors. You were strongly considering killing this guy and raiding his home. You could leave his corpse outside for the lower demons to take away, and you’ll have a safe haven to pass three days in during the extermination. But you decided against it, and the thrum in your veins died down, resulting to you dropping the weapon on your side.

It was too little to notice, but the stranger seemed to relax when you reconsidered against killing him. 

You were about to cut your hair when you realized something. What was going to hold this stranger back from kicking you out right when he gets what he wants from you? You need a safe place, and this was the perfect one. What if he had no bad intentions, but he also had no good intentions?

The scissors were pulled back from your locks of wool and you looked at him. It resulted to him looking at you with a tilt in his head as if he was asking you if you were going to say something. “I reckon that we should make a _deal_.”

In hell, there was no sense of trust around here. Nothing runs by mere trust, so how could things be done cooperatively? Through deals. Anyone could make them, but no one can break it. These were the most basic magic around here, but were new so you didn’t quite understand how heavy the burden of a deal was. But you needed it, and he needed your hair, so how else to ensure your safety?

“If I give you my wool, then you are going to have to keep me.” You said.

The man shook his head, motioning his hands flat, and then making one fall low while the other one high. He meant to say that this was a very unfair deal. “Fine. The deal is that if you need my help, as long as it is something I _consent_ to, you’re going to have to help me too and vice versa.” The scales that he motioned seemed to be rather equal now, but there was still something off if he was still holding the motion. “This deal will go on until we're both even.” You said, to which he nodded and dropped his hands. 

You decided that this was a rather fair deal (as fair as deals in hell can get), and raised your hand. As the deal was raised through your hand, your palm seemed to glow a bright lilac. By the look on the stranger’s face, it seemed like he was also rather surprised by the sudden burst of color around your hand. It must have been his first deal too, but you couldn’t tell.

Before he could take your hand, you pulled away. “ _And_ another condition.” You added, the lilac glowing brighter as your thoughts had solidified into magic. “Neither of us may hurt each other directly, nor indirectly, nor with the help of a third party. This part of the deal will go one for _eternity_.”

His eyebrows furrowed for a bit, as if processing whatever you said. Once it sunk in, his smile widened, showing his sharp, yellowing teeth. He nodded, showing his contentment with the deal. You smiled back, and stretched your hand back to him. He took your hand, and shook on it. Wisps of green and lilac flew from your hands and it seemed to bind both of your wrists before fading away. It left no mark on either of you, but the back of your mind was echoing with the words that binds you together.

The deal was set. You grabbed the scissors and cut your hair.


	2. Hellish Woes

Only one day left until the Extermination, and you both were prepared. You weren’t very knowledgeable on the process of spinning wool, so you decided to get plain cloth, sew it into something like a large pillow, and stuff your wool into it. It had been a shock that it even fit, and it was even more of a shock that you were able to provide that much for it to bulge. 

Much to your dismay, whatever hellish power you had made your hair grow long each time you cut it, which means that you were practically a factory for wool. It wasn’t much of a negative thing though, because you were able to produce a _lot_ of blankets that would keep you both warm and cozy for the horrible cold of the night.

You never really notice it because in the five days that you’ve been in Hell, you were always supported by the warmth of your hair. You’d only realized how cold it actually was in the night (you don’t know it was even called a ‘night’. The red sky only became a tiny bit less red) when you cut your hair.

As for your new friend, Alastor, you’d figured that he was unable to speak. All forms of communication by you both was through gestures and mouthing. Anytime he ever _tried_ to speak, he only got to let out some static (which was weird, because that’s normally not what vocal cords produce. Whatever, it was Hell and he was a Demon). By his looks alone, you could easily assume that he was new around here too. However, you don’t really know how he found such a convenient place to live in. You don’t really think that you should ask either because you doubt that he would answer.

You’d only met two days ago, but you’d learned quite a lot about Hell and your friend. First, is that it wasn’t unusual to have a bit of a foggy mind the first time you fall. It was common to run around Hell, not knowing what happened or _why_ you fell. Second, is that Alastor had some astounding abilities, and he wasn’t at all hesitant in showing some of it off. You did too, actually. However it wasn’t much like the set of abilities Alastor had. Not only that, but you were yet to understand how magic works down here-- because you sure as Hell were certain that there _wasn’t_ anything of this sort up there in the Living. Third, is that he _does not_ like anyone touching him unless it was something he prompted himself. You don’t understand why, but hey, he has his own demons too. Fourth, is that he is slowly finding out how to work his little radio vocal cords. He’d be able to speak by, give or take, four months .Last, and definitely not the least, was that your Deal with him was more than what you said. The voices in your head that echo your words during the deal made it so that you were _inclined_ to help him. So now, not only were you providing him with aid when it comes to materials, you were also helping him by sticking to his side when he goes out.

Perhaps you were a bit too hasty in making this deal of yours.

A loud static could be heard from your side, which likely meant that Alastor was calling for your attention. You turned your head and saw him looking at a specific store that looked a bit shady. “You think we could get something there?” You asked, to which the static turned into a higher pitched and chirpy tone, as if he was saying yes in a gleeful manner (you had no idea _how_ you got the message).

The both of you were outside of your little hole, collecting necessary items that could help during and after the extermination happens. You’d been scavenging in homes that were already empty due to people running away into hiding places, and you’d actually acquired quite a few items already. Today, Alastor was no longer wearing rags that you saw him wear during the time you both first met. He was now wearing a pair of black, plain pants that were a tad bit too loose on him, and a button-up, long sleeved red shirt that seemed to be a bit too loose for his thin figure. Meanwhile, you weren’t wearing the same outfit that you stole from that Alligator that you killed a few days prior. You were now wearing brown pants that was a bit too tightly tapered by your ankles, and a blouse that was _very_ loose on you. It was easier to move in, since your delicate bits won’t easily be seen if ever you moved your leg a bit too high. Oh, and you had shoes now!

Now you were about to go through a store that was tightly shut. From where you were, it looked quite empty. There were countless of locks in each entrance, but it was nothing that a fair amount of magic could do. The both of you walked towards the store. Your hands glowed a hue of violet as the claws on your hands seemed to grow dangerously. It turned sharper, sharp enough to tear through metal itself. You tore at the metal locks, and the magic left your fingers as if nothing had happened. You and Alastor had helped each other out in opening the shop big enough so that you both could enter.

Inside was a very nice place to be. There was everything you needed, and more. While electronics were mostly a rarity in Hell, this shop was thrumming with so much of it. You didn’t quite understand how most of it worked, but there was definitely something that you were familiar with. 

“A radio.” You said with an excited smile, and touched the Radio. It was a 1923 model 12 of a Radio made by Atwater Kent. You didn’t personally know the guy, but you did admire the work. You weren’t a fan of the technology, but ever since the end of the cold war, you found yourself fascinated by the rate that humans could get right back into the flow of things. There may be a few setbacks here and there, but you were able to make such wonderful advancements to technology. It was wonderful. “I reckon we should bring this back with us, don’t you think so Alastor?” 

Instead of the usual chirp of static through Alastor’s mouth, you heard the radio flare up into a different kind of static. You jumped at the source of the static, which was from the radio behind you. You turned back to look at the smiling demon, and also saw that he was at a shock at the discovery. It made sense. He was speaking static all along, which probably meant that he was a demon that was affiliated with the Radio. “I guess we’re going to have to take it then, huh.” You said, and attempted to take the Radio from the stand.

Before you could, however, you felt your hand get shot. It was bleeding a hole through the palm, and bits of your meat could be seen on the radio itself. You let out a shout of pain as you clutched your hand. The blood was dripping down from your palm and into your clothes, which was a pain because you were going to have to wash it.

You looked up at the suspect of the crime, which was an Ox looking demon by the door that you suspect lead to the back of the store. He was a large thing. His muscles were evident through his shirt, intimidating you, who were just a mere Sheep demon. By the look of his glowing red eyes, you knew that he was _very_ angry. “This is _my_ shop, thieves.” He said with a growl. As he grew even angrier by the second, you witnessed his horns grow longer as his grip on the shotgun tightened. You could smell the bloodlust in his scent as he stared at the two of you even longer. He had full intention to murder you both.

It wasn’t easy to notice, but Alastor’s static seemed to have grown louder too. In a sense, it was irritating to the ears, but due to the deal that you had there was a sense of comfort in it. HIs scent had also become one of blood, but it had a mixture of decaying meat in it. You didn’t understand what type of ill intent he had, since it was the first time you’ve ever smelled such a foul scent on anyone. You were almost glad that it wasn’t towards you.

“My apologies, dear boy.” You spoke, gritting your teeth as you felt your wound slowly mend itself back together. Your manner of speech had become formal, since this man was a stranger. “I hadn’t thought that this shop was occupied. If you would let us be off on our merry way, then-”

You were disrupted by another shot. This time, it had hit your shoulder. The pain was as excruciating as the last, but your growing anger seemed to dull the irritating pain. “Sir, that was quite rude of you. I hadn’t finished talking.” You said, a growl just below your temper. 

“Me? Rude?” He chuckled darkly. The man had reloaded his shotgun without even looking down. He kept his eyes on you, an intent to kill evident even without the scent guiding you. “You should know that were I come from, thievery is a sin punishable by death.” Before he could aim at your head this time, the Ox demon was attacked by the throat. The gun was pulled away by the attacker, and thrown towards you.

The static had grown _very_ loud, to the point that you were unsure that it even came from Alastor’s voice or if it was just in the air itself. The power and bloodlust of the Deer was thrumming through the air, mixing with the scent of the Ox who is brutally mauled at. You heard the screams of the Demon who had shot at you, but it was nothing against the pure noise that had come from Alastor as he ripped the demon apart. Alastor’s eyes had turned into dials as he had no mercy for the demon who’d threatened the both of you. It was clear that 

By the end of the minute, the demon was lying on the floor. He was nothing but bits for the lesser demons to feed. 

You felt no remorse for the nearly dying thing at your feet. You decided that maybe you should leave this place open for the extermination to happen. It’s so that this demon, who was still alive and witnessing the worst pain in his entire time in Hell, could finally die and _maybe_ earn eternal numbness.

“Five to Six.” That was the ratio of how much favors you’ve given Alastor, as to how much he’d given you. “I suppose I now owe you one, Alastor.” You said, holding the gun. “Next one is up for me.” You said and slung the gun to your back. 

The thrum of raw power weakened, leaving nothing but a chirp of the static. 

You tried your best to ignore the mess on the floor as you started hoarding all the things you thought you’d need. Not just for during this extermination, but also for the sole improvement of your new life in Hell. You had to do better _somehow_. You didn’t want to stay in a little hole for a long time, and you sure as hell knew that it wasn’t what Alastor wanted either. 

Both of you didn’t mind the other’s business as you both collected the items which were now yours. The shop was rather nice, since there were a bountiful of cooking ingredients, basic electronic utilities like make-shift toasters (from materials that can be acquired in Hell), and basic toiletries. You look around for the _specific_ toiletries, and saw nothing. Is it possible for Demons to get that sort of thing? It was hell, it’s meant for eternal damnation without relief, but does that extend to the monthly devil that visits the lower regions? You’d sure hope not, because there weren’t things here that helped with that.

The shop was now void of the items you needed and were interested in, so you decided to move to the cash register. You smelled like burning metal, but you ignored it. You were in Hell, what’s a little greed going to do? You stashed the cash into your bag and left nothing for those who might come in later. “I’m done here.” You said and moved towards Alastor, a radio in his hand. The static was in a disruption, the constant rising and falling of the frequency showed that he was trying to do something with it.

He looked focused, his eyes narrowing at the little electronic. His eyes were as it were a while ago, when he had been brimming with bloodlust. You saw radio dials turning in his eyes. You smelled no trace of blood from him though; rather, he smelled like clean water. It was an odd thing to smell down here in the filth of Hell where nothing was clean. Everyone has to settle with the worst of the worst states of their daily necessities (that is, if they even get to acquire those necessities). By the look in his eyes, aside from the sheer focus, the scent he was giving out must have been _hope_.

Hope? For what? You don’t quite understand, and you don’t plan to. You’ve decided against disturbing him from whatever it was that he was trying to achieve and waited.

The static started to compress and decompress, the pitch heightening and lowering as his power thrum silently in the air. It continued to do so until you could hear vague words from the static. “He…llo” The sound was drowning in static, but you could make out the words. “Hello… Hello!” Eventually the static was cleared out enough that you were able to hear a distinct voice from the radio.

At first if confused you, but the oddity of the way the radio had acted made you think. When it sunk in, you felt genuine glee as he grinned at you expectantly. “What?” You said in awe as you stared at him in disbelief. “You found a way to speak now! Congratulations Alastor!” The emotions were genuine as you felt pride come off of you in waves. It may be Hell, but you were genuinely glad that he managed to speak. Now communication would be way easier compared to before.

The smiling demon grinned wider as he put the radio under his arms and bowed. “Tha.. ank… yo-ou.” He managed to speak. While there was a lag in the way that he had spoken, he was able to pronounce the syllables perfectly. Alastor knew how to speak, maybe it was just the way he had to control his new ‘voice box’.

By the end of the theft, you both departed from the shop with smiles on your faces.

~+~

You tried your best to ignore the screams outside. The extermination was brutal so far, and it had only been an hour until the Angels had landed.

There wasn’t much to do down here other than wait. Only a faint light had come from the lamp this time because if it had been too bright, then the Angels would likely find you. Reading was out of the option. The radio was also out of the option because it created too much noise. Even _speaking_ was out of the option, because if Alastor tried to speak back then he’d either create static noise, or turn on the radio.

The screams outside your door started to become more frequent, as demons are chased out of their homes to face death by the Angels. You hid yourself in the comfort of your hair, serving as some sort of curtain from the outside world. While you didn’t mind the act of killing, you didn’t enjoy the suffering of others. What if other people were like you, who was only trying to get by? What if there were sinners who sinned to protect others? There was no sort of justice down here, and you certainly knew that.

You felt yourself stiffen when you heard screams from the house beside where you were hidden. There was a woman’s scream that echoed in your own cave. You felt the thumping feet of the Angels, and the strong flap of their wings told you that they were gone. Well, gone from right in front of the hiding-spot’s entrance, that is. 

“Do you remember anything in your time among the living, Alastor?” You asked. It had only been six days since you’ve met him, but you’ve decided to try and make a friend of him now. Especially now that he was bound by a deal not to harm you. It was Hell, but you were lonely and you might as well make the best of it by making one friend. 

Before he could speak with the sounds of static, you made a hushing motion. “Not too loud, else they might hear us down here.” You warned with your eyes wide.

Alastor’s eyes blinked, as if processing what you said. “Well, do you remember?” You asked again, to which he nodded. “What sin did you commit to end up here?” His grin widened, and he motioned a gun towards your head. “You killed?” He nodded. The smell of bloodlust rose to your nose, and you realized what he did. “You were a serial killer, huh?” You asked, and he kept that smile of his. There was no bit of remorse on his features, not even in his expressive eyes. It was nothing but that stupid smile of his. “To each your own then, I guess.” There was no lie in the fact that you were suddenly fearful in his presence. You may have the deal between you both, but you weren’t sure as to how much that could restrain him from killing you.

“I don’t remember my life.” You blurted, not bothering to look at him. There was no point, because you knew that he’d be smiling regardless. “I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or not, but I honestly doubt that it’s going to do anything to me down here in Hell. What I don’t understand, however, is why I’m a sheep.” You laughed, “I mean, do you know why you’re a deer?”

His smile wasn’t as big as it was before, and if you looked close enough, the smile seemed rather forced than his usual, shit-eating grin. He motioned a dog with his hands, and the hands bit into his throat. The way he expressed it was very… morbid. He attempted to be as silent as he can while at the same time being very exaggerated with his motions. You got the message in less than a minute, that he was murdered by dogs-- most likely hunting dogs. However, he continued with his charade, acting like he was reliving his past experiences. 

He stopped when he got tired, and got back to his usual sitting position. 

There was a moment of silence again, and you were desperate for another topic. “Did you intend to kill me when you first saw me?” You asked, knowing the true answer. You looked at him, who’s grin got wider. His face looked as if it could split in half right now with the way he smiled. He nodded.

You smelled a faint scent of smoke, one that was abundant in the presence of a steam-powered train. This was a lie. You’d decided against calling him out on that, and you smiled back. “Of course, I’m the same.” You said, adding a threat to your tone. It was a bluff, of course. You two had the deal between the two of you, and you knew against breaking it.

Before you met Alastor, you witnessed an outrage among a few demons. A deal had been broken by the three of them, and in a flash of lightning from the Heavens above, they were all decimated into bits of meat. They were still alive, but you doubted that they could get themselves back together again. It must have been something like an eternal pain and suffering.

Another time you saw a deal being broken, a demon had morphed into the ugliest being that you could ever think of. There was no sense of beauty in him, and it was as if he had turned into an Eldritch horror. Another was a demoness getting dragged away into the shadows, her screams echoing everywhere in the corner begging for the torture to stop.

Breaking deals weren’t uncommon down here, so it wasn’t something you had a hard time learning.

You’d come into the conclusion that the consequences of breaking a deal was the worst torture that one could think of, and while you weren’t sure what was the worst thing you could imagine being done to you, you’d rather not find out. This was Hell, and you had no intentions to make it live up to its name.

Hours had gone of you rambling to yourself and Alastor motioning replies to your Hellish woes, and it seemed like the extermination was over. There weren’t as much screaming outside, and you could hear murmurs and excitement from demons everywhere. They were all rejoicing that the Angels weren’t able to find them, and they were all making a ruckus outside. 

By the sound of the chirpy static that Alastor had been voicing, you also knew what this meant. The extermination was over, and now you were going to go out and begone with this deal. 

Your damned soul told you otherwise, though. You don’t understand why-- _oh_. The latest kill Alastor had. You had to make up to that one before you could declare that your deal was over. You cursed internally as you stood in the bunker and went out. You owe Alastor one, and only then will the deal be deemed escapable. 

“Whe...ere Ar...r...re.. Y..ou g..going...?” You heard the radio speak. Alastor had been practicing since the day before, and he was getting better. However, it was going to be hard since he’d be lugging that radio with him everywhere. 

“Out.” You said promptly. “I’m curious to see the carnage outside.” You didn’t need to look to see that Alastor was out to follow you, with the radio in hand. 

You took the stairs out. Lo and behold, the scene in front of you was just as you expected. Bodies of demons lie on the floor, as cleaners, lesser demons with an assigned job, took out all of the corpses of truly dead demons into the trash. You looked a few blocks away and saw that the shop with the Ox was in ruins. The house beside you was also destroyed, probably due to the wings that Angels had. 

Alastor stood by your side, and whistled, bits of static floating in the air as he did. “Tha...at lo..ooks gre..eat.” He commented. Even though the comment was rather choppy, you got that he was being sarcastic. Alastor was talkative recently, most likely due to the fact that he was practicing. He was insistent that he should start learning how to communicate through the radio better, and who were you to stop him?

“It does.” You said, but there was no sarcasm in your remark. “Alastor, more demons dying means that there’s more space for us to wriggle through here.” There was an overpopulation, which means that newer demons are likely to have no space in the hierarchy down here. Now, since you survived, you could get into the system. You could live here in a relatively peaceful manner, with power and a better place to hide.

The smiling demon must have gotten your message, because his smile turned into a grin. There was an unspoken understanding between the two of you, and you’ve decided that you were going to owe him a better place in Hell. 

~+~

“Hundred 'n Fifty-one.” You said, feeling the sticky substance of blood seep through your skin through the gloves. It wasn’t disgusting. You looked up at Alastor who was looking down from the balcony of the establishment and saw that he was holding two demons by the throat. The smiling demon dropped the two into the pile of corpses in the middle of the establishment, and walked to your side. “Hundred n' sixty.” You said bitterly. You owe him nine now, and it was honestly irritating you how large the gap was getting. 

There are 342 days left until the next extermination, which meant that it’s been around a month since you’ve made a deal with Alastor. However, much to your chagrin, the gap between the favors weren’t getting any thinner. He always seemed to be steps ahead of you, helping more than you could help him. It was getting hard to catch up, and you were getting scared. This deal you made was working against you, because you knew that if the gap was too large, you could be working like a slave for him.

You’ve been busting your ass to do him favors, yet he seemed to be doing it effortlessly. It was like he was _enjoying_ this game you both had. 

“The fire is on me now.” You muttered. With a snap of your fingers, a burst of flame had come from the palm of your hands. There were no signs of burning from your palm, but by the time the flame touched the bodies in the pile, they all started burning. The demons groaned in pain as their skin touched the pyre that you summoned. “Fifty two to sixty.” You counted.

A common misconception about burning is that flesh turns into dust. That was incorrect. If flesh burns, it starts to melt. Boils would appear, and pop. It would turn into food for the flames, and strengthen the fire that make them suffer. Another common mistake was that demons are unkillable. That was also incorrect-- they were just _really hard to kill_. It wasn’t impossible, and you hadn’t known that until the red man beside you had done so.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous. This man beside you only had one thing separating you from this pile, and that was a deal that you’d done a month ago. Chills went up your spine the moment you thought of the moment you made a deal. If he’d refused, and if he’d killed you, where would you be right now?

But you had the deal, and the both of you knew the weight of a deal. Neither of you were going to break it, and it seemed like it won’t be broken in a while. This man was having fun, and if he was entertained, the stage won’t ever shut its lights-- _and you’ve realized too late that you have become the limelight of his stage._ However, you would be lying if you told him that you weren’t having any fun. Looking at the pile in front of you gives you a rush of euphoria, you were ecstatic at the thought that there were many more demons you’d have to kill to get to where you wanted, and it didn’t concern you at all.

Alastor smiled at the sight, but he turned his back on it sharply as he walked on ahead towards the exit. He grabbed a bag at the entrance, which contained the AK radio that you two found a day before your first extermination, and waited for you to follow him. “The public awaits us, my dear.” He said. The static in his voice remained, but it wasn’t as choppy as it had been before. Not only that, but he’d been able to lipsync whatever he let the radio say. It looked like he was actually speaking. 

You looked at the demon awaiting you by the exit, and you realized how much he’d changed since a month ago. Unlike his stolen clothes, he was now wearing a suit tailored specifically for him. He was clad in a bright red dress shirt with a dark design, which was overlapped with a striped red coat along with dress pants that suit him nicely. To finish it off, he wore a black bow tie that was designed to have a red knot in the middle. His hands were covered in dark gloves that had enhanced the sharpness of his dangerous nails, colored bright red to merge with the blood of those who dared to test his temper.

You pulled the gloves you had been using off your hands, and you threw it into the fire. It wasn’t just him that had changed. You now resembled a woman who belonged to the stage, with your blood red, glittering flapper frocks designed to snugly fit your curves that were made by the wool produced in areas that made you look quite shapely, and to flow down gracefully along your movements. On your neck was a loose black ribbon made of the same material, with the ends looking like it was dipped in blood. Adorned on your head was an equally red cloche hat that contrasted against your white hair, designed with black diamonds that you had no trouble acquiring due to the riches you’d taken from the dead. You wore your hair down, letting the voluminous locks of white hair frame you, making your body look smaller than it really was. You were the perfect bait, but that wouldn’t be for long.

“The stage awaits us, darling.” He said, offering his arm for you to take. His eyes were narrowed on you, but in no threatening way. It was merely a look of anticipation. 

You take it, and you both walk towards the exit where cameras start flashing at the both of you. It felt as if you were a star that people adored, and every picture they could get of you was worth your weight in gold. Everywhere you looked, you saw cameras flashing at you, most likely for pictures to put in their newspapers. It had only been a month since you’ve fallen, and already you were like some bigshot in Hell. It was exhilarating.

This wasn’t what you wanted, but this was definitely something amusing to you.

As you continued walking forth, towards anywhere you’d deem fun, the flames behind you started growing larger, swallowing the establishment and its neighbors. The fires seemed to burn brighter than you intended, but that was fine.

They probably deserved it anyway.


	3. Friends Backstage

“Si..ix tee...eee...eeen.” Alastor said, well _tried_ to say. He dropped a head on the floor. The man was barely recognizable safe for a few of his fur that you’d say was familiar. The face was a stone image of a man who had been petrified in his death, but his features were too distorted to be recognized by anyone else. However, you’d recognize him due to the fact that you’d encountered him only a few hours ago. He was a man who mouthed insulting things towards you, words that didn’t really matter to you at all. 

So when you saw Alastor looking at you with his eyes brimming with glee, you were very confused. You didn’t really know what to say about it other than an unsure “Thanks?”

The both of you had been roaming around Hell, with Alastor barely being able to speak, and with his radio in a bag that you’d stolen before. You brought it with you since it was the only way he could communicate, but you were lying if you said it was ‘no trouble’. Technically, it was a favor, so you took the job anyway. Even if you brought the radio, Alastor had barely spoken. He only spoke with his usual chirps of static and motioning. Which was fine since you might get attention if he spoke frequently through the radio. The reason why you’d been looking around in Hell was because you needed a good grasp on what Hell was like outside of your little, comfortable, hiding hole that you’d come to call home now. You were wearing what you assumed were decent clothes, but in comparison to the attire the superior demons had, they were like rags being compared to gold-- which is why you both were being looked at like you were trash at the side of the street.

It was inevitable to be insulted, since this was Hell and you can’t really imagine that people down here would have anything akin to shame, etiquette, and any sense of decency. You’d just thrown that comment over your shoulder. So imagine your shock when he’d given this man’s head to you as a ‘favor’.

Well, it counted, so you can’t really say anything against it.

“Thanks, but I’m gonna have to leave it here since we’re looking for a good job down here.” You said, to which he shrugged at. He kicked the head away like it was some playball, and grinned at you. You grinned back, not really knowing how to comment on that.

Three days. It’s been three days since the extermination, and nothing much had changed. You thought that you’d have an opportunity to rise up in the ranks, but nothing had happened. It was as if Hell had always been like this, with just a few, useless, no-named demons gone. 

You had to admit, you were pretty frustrated with the way things were right now. You were both jobless-- Alastor could _barely_ speak, and no one wanted to hire you because you were a lamb demon! It was _stupid_. 

Of course that was until you saw an opportunity posted on the door of a fine looking establishment. 

**_Hiring Stage Performer. NOW._ **

It was posted on the door of tailor shop named Tiger, and in the sign was a shut eye. _Blind tiger..._ it was a speakeasy. Red alarms rang in your head as you saw it, since speakeasies were illegal at the time you lived. It was illegal, but there was nothing wrong if it was Hell anyway. You felt uneasy, since you were aware that most bigshot criminals frequented at speakeasies in your life-- what more if you were in Hell? 

You turned towards Alastor, who was also looking at the same sign. He seemed intrigued, but there was no sign of nervousness on him. Rather, he looked very excited-- more than he usually did. “What can you do?” You asked, to which he grinned wider. He motioned playing a piano.

Well, isn’t that convenient.

He then pointed at you, to which you blushed beet red. You didn’t want to admit it, but you have a pretty nice voice in singing. “I can sing, I guess.” You said, and without much of a thought, you took the paper from the door and entered the coffee shop with Alastor tailing you. He took the radio from you.

With a ring of the door, you got the attention of a woman dressed in edwardian clothing that from the 1900’s. She looked very prim and petite as she stood beside who you assumed was the manager of the shop. Her skin was grey, and her eyes was empty. It was a void that seemed to pull you in, taking all of your will not to stare at it even more. She wore a wide brimmed hat riddled with feathers and dried flowers. She wore a two piece dress, with her skirt’s band tight on the waist and flaring by the hem. The way she held herself told you that she was someone who was full of pride and self-worth. It was like she was someone with _power_ and she _knew it_.

“What’cha want?” The manager asked rudely. The owner was a well built demon who was much like a goat. He was well dressed in modern American fashion, and looked really casual as he leaned on the counter. He wore a neat white top, and suspenders to keep up his pants. His skin was riddled with bright orange fur, and his horns were dipped in gold from the tip. He looked at both of you from head to heel and grimaced. “Screw off lass, we dun’ serve the likes of ya.” The man huffed, looking at you specifically. He turned to Alastor with contempt and nodded. “The lad can enter tho, with a price ‘course. Doesn’t hafta be cash.” The man winked, to which Alastor stiffened by your side. He smelled like rotting fruits and flowers. _Oh_.

You stood in front of Alastor, shielding him from the rather _intense_ sight of the goat looking demon. “We’re here for a job.”

The demon laughed at what you said, as if it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day. “Sorry, we don’t hire useless, talentless bums like-”

“ _As I was saying, Rio_ . _”_ The woman’s voice sent chills down your spine. Her voice was smooth, and clear. It thrums with so much power, and that was just her words alone. What more was her potential in _killing_ ? “I will not forgive you if you dare serve your guests without a suitable distraction from their hands.” She said, a clear intent of murder in her tone. The scent in the air turned into a choking scent of blood. “They are a rowdy crowd that gets too handsy, and your choice of members are _horrible_ . You’d do well to handle this issue to my expectations. If there is no one on the stage by tonight, _you will lose more than just your job._ ” The woman said, to which the man gulped nervously.

The woman gave you one last look before entering what a normal, clueless person would assume was the kitchen. You knew better, though. It was likely to be the entrance of the speakeasy. “I’m looking forward to your time on stage, little Lamb.” She said, a grin on her lips. “I do hope you will not disappoint.” Her voice held no ill intent, no trace of threat. The bloodlust was immediately gone when she left the room, where you felt yourself let out a breath that you didn’t know you held.

“I sure won’t Ms. Rosie!” Rio let out a sigh of relief, before looking at you as if he was a defeated child. “You better do well, or I’ll be serving lamb and deer skewers tonight.” He said, which you didn’t really take lightly. Cannibalism isn’t something you’d think was rare in Hell, so you took those words to heart.

He turned his head towards a cupboard, and shouted. “ _Lola! Poppy!”_ Almost immediately, two demons emerged from the small space. You had absolutely no idea how they’d fit there, but you didn’t really think it was impossible. “Dress these two up, they’re the performers for tonight.” Rio said, and entered after the woman.

The two demons were small, but they were very fast and nimble. They only reached up to your knees as they started walking around you both. They wore a dress with so many layers of petticoat. The fact that it was a bubble balloon skirt made them look more like they were bouncing balls that grew a torso, face, and limbs. They both only had one eye, and there was a flower at where the other eye is supposed to be. Their hair was cut into a bob style haircut, with many decorative pins. The color of their hair was the only thing different between the two of them, with one of them having cyan hair and the other with neon yellow. The color of their clothes matched their hair color.

“My, what a mess!” One said, her voice akin to a ten year-old girl’s. She walked around Alastor with an observing eye as she muttered comments under her breath. Your friend looked at the child, and though he looked a bit uncomfortable with the proximity of the girl, he didn’t smell of blood.

“Nothing we can’t handle, right Poppy?” The one who you’d assume was Lola said with a smile. She was the one who circled around you, as if she was a lion cornering her prey. Maybe she was, because you certainly felt like you were going to get eaten by this person. “Would it be fine if I trimmed your wool a bit? You’re like a little doll I can mold!” Lola said. She looked a little bit too excited than she was supposed to be.

Alastor was being led into a fitting room, where he was probably going to get cleaned up for a performance. “Up and at it lady! We only have so much time until you’re going up on stage!” Lola said, pushing you into your own room.

Everything happened in a flash-- _literally_. It only took a snap to strip you of your clothes, and another second to throw tape measure all over you. In a moment, some cloth was being thrown at you, and the next she was already cleaning it up. You looked at yourself in the mirror and saw you all dressed up with a stark white flapper dress with gold beadwork done. It draped beautifully on your body, while showing a fair amount of skin. Your arms were decorated with fake gold jewelry, and your head was decorated with feathers. She’d done a miracle by fixing your hair. She’d made it so that your hair was flattened down your to the same level of your eyes, and your ears remained perked up, then she’d curled it all up all the way down.

You look astonished as you saw the cloth moving to the little girl’s will. So there was definitely some magic involved in fixing you up. “Lola, this is beautiful!” You exclaimed, to which the girl grinned knowingly.

“I know honey, it’s been a while since I’ve had such a pretty canvas.” Lola sighed. “I didn’t like the last one, so I killed her! The boss can’t do nothing ‘bout it ‘cos I killed her during the extermination!” _Oh,_ so that’s why they suddenly needed a new performer. “Be careful not to tell anyone, _or you’re next_!”She giggled and pushed you out of the room. You made sure not to blabber your mouth, because you won’t make the mistake of underestimating a little girl of her size. “I hope you do well out tonight, lady!”

Wait. _Wait._ “Tonight?” you asked, to which Lola tilted her head.

“Of course silly! Didn’t you see the sign? It said ‘now’, and now’s tonight.” She giggled, and you felt dread weighing down your gut. Sure, you had some amount of confidence in singing, you really had no idea if you could do an impromptu performance. You were nervous, and you were dragging Alastor into this. 

Speak of the devil-- soon after you’d been pushed out of the room, you heard the door slam from the room beside yours and saw Alastor all dressed up for the night. He was wearing a red velvet suit that fell loose down to half of his thigh, which is longer than the normal suit and tie. His shirt was a stark white, contrasting with the red all over him and he wore a black bowtie to finish it all off.

You had to admit, Alastor was devilishly handsome now that you really looked at him.

Ignore that, you had more important news. “Alastor, we’re performing tonight!” He nodded, looking oddly calm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know what the paper meant by _now_ , and now I’ve dragged you into this mess! If we do bad then we might-!” Alastor put his finger just above your lips, as if he was trying to calm you down.

Well, it didn’t help but it did shut up up a bit. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was static. For a moment his smile was less enthusiastic, as if he missed his voice. You could sense his distress due to the fact that the static turned into a more aggressive, high pitched noise. You couldn’t blame him, he must have been a great singer and that would have been convenient for today’s mess of events. The static died down, turning into a familiar chirp. He then resorted to motioning, where he pointed at himself, and grinned. Then he pointed at you, motioning a flow with his hands. You didn’t take long to figure out what he said. “I’ll go with the flow?” You asked, to which he nodded.

If Alastor had that much confidence, then you honestly doubted that there was anything wrong that was going to happen. Just singing, right? “What song are we going to perform?” You asked, and he shrugged. Then he pointed at you. “It’s up to me?” He nodded, and motioned playing a piano. “You’ll play according to what I sing.” Alastor nodded again.

You were getting a headache, but this was not the time to wallow. You had no time to practice and you had to do your best. If you mess up, you both might die.

But it was music. If there was one thing that you’d remember in your life, it was _music_. It was like it was the most important, and the only thing you’d known about yourself. You had to trust yourself, because it was one of the few things you had to rely on. “Alright, break a leg then, I guess-- but not literally, okay?” You said, and he nodded with a humored grin on his face.

~+~

The next thing you knew, you were on the stage in front of so many eyes. The room was a mixture of so many scents that you almost felt dizzy. If this was the first experience you’ve ever had in Hell, you would have fainted because of the overwhelming amount of sinful intent in the air. It was a good thing that you’d gotten used to the smell of sin.

Alastor was also on the stage, accompanying a piano beside you. His hair looked redder than it has ever been, most likely because of the amount of light pointed at him. There was no sign of the AK radio anywhere, most likely because it couldn’t be brought on stage. He looked at you with unreadable eyes, and you felt even more uncomfortable in front. What was he expecting of you? What if you didn’t do well? What if you were going to get killed because of the horrible performance?

You didn’t know, but you sure as hell didn’t want to die. So here you were, approaching the microphone with a smile. There was no backing out, and there certainly was no room for failure. You had to do well or you’ll get yourself killed.

It took one more look over the crowd until you knew that it was time to sing. You started to snap your fingers, introducing the song to the crowd. “ _I guess I grew up on an old dirt road. Pedal to the metal always did what I was told”_ You began, your voice echoing around the room. The acoustics in the room was good enough, you guess.

“ _'Till I found out that my brand new clothes came second hand from the rich kids next door!_ ” Alastor had done well in accompanying your voice with the piano as you sang. His tempo matched the snapping of your fingers, and once you were sure that he got the hang of it you stopped.

The crowd didn’t look upset, which meant that it was a good thing. “ _When I grew up fast I guess I grew up mean. There's a thousand things inside my head I wish I ain't seen.”_ You remembered the countless of sins that you’d seen in your time in Hell, and you certainly wished that you’d never been there to witness it at all. “ _And now I just wander through a real bad dream, Feelin' like I'm coming apart at the seams._

 _“Thank you Jack Daniel's Old Number Seven! Tennessee Whiskey got me drinking in heaven.”_ This was a shockingly appropriate song for a crowd in a speakeasy. _“Angels start to look good to me, they're gonna have to deport me to the fiery deep.”_

You observed the crowd again, who all seemed either amused or annoyed at the lyrics of the song. It was funny, because most of the members of the crowd had probably fallen to hell because of the fact that they indulged in so much alcohol. Other people had the same sense of humor, but some were quite displeased.

 _“Thank you Jack Daniel's Old Number Seven, Tennessee Whiskey got me drinking in heaven. I know I can't stay here too long, 'cause I can't go a week without doin' wrong!”_ You looked at Rosie in the crowd this time, and she showed you a pleased smile. You would know, because you’d seen so many different types of smiles through Alastor. You would know the difference between ‘you are going to die’ smile and ‘HAHAHA’ smile. It was scary how you know this, but it was also somewhat a good thing because your confidence grew.

_“So I'm sitting as the bar stool it starts to grow roots, feelin' like an old worn out pair of shoes!”_

Now people were _definitely_ mad, while Rosie on the other hand continued to look _very_ pleased. Rio looked very nervous as he observed the audience, but he also must have noticed the pleased look on Rosie’s face, so he didn’t disturb you. However, even if Rosie was pretty happy with your performance so far, there were some who looked at you with an intent to kill. You continued to sing, because nothing should disturb the performance. _“Tell me what is it that I should do when I'm swimming in the liquor only half way through.”_

A few members from the crowd stood up and went towards the stage. You felt a thrum of excitement go through your veins as you thought of killing them on stage, so you smiled as you performed. “ _So I'm watching as his wings spread as wide as could be, come on now and wrap them around me!”_ Two of them had gone up on stage, so you removed the microphone from the stand. You took the stand in your hand, preparing to use it as a weapon. _“'Cause all I want to do now is fall to sleep.”_ They did the first swing. You dodged swiftly. They were slower than all the others who’ve come to attack. _“Come down here and lay next to me”_ You proceeded to hit one of them on the neck so hard that you managed to send their head rolling on the floor.

There was a sudden spike in the scent of bloodlust. You must have triggered everyone else to begin attacking when you sent someone’s head to the floor. _“Thank you Jack Daniel's Old Number Seven! Tennessee Whiskey got me drinking in heaven.”_

Most of the crowd had become aggressive, all aiming to kill you. They saw it as a challenge, their eyes full of excitement and bloodlust. You looked at Rosie who had been on her way out. She motioned for Rio to go near her, and she whispered in his ears. Whatever she said made his eyes widen and turn to look at you.

Rosie and Rion then proceeded to leave the vicinity, leaving Alastor and you to the demons. 

You felt like it was a sign that you were permitted to absolutely purge this room of all these people. 

_“Up here the bottle never runs dry, and you never wake up with those tears in your eyes.”_

_“Thank you Jack Daniel's Old Number Seven! Tennessee Whiskey got me drinking in heaven, Angels start to look good to me. They're gonna have to deport me to the fiery deeps.”_

In an instant after finishing the song, you dropped the microphone and slammed the microphone stand into a demon’s head. You'd grown strong enough to have it go all the way through, with so much blood spilled. You saw his one eye roll out through the other side of the hole, while the other one went out with a _pop._ It was surprisingly satisfying to see both of that happen. “Alastor!” You shouted, looking for him. The stage was full of so many demons that you’d lost him along the crowd.

There was a faint sound of static in the air as you looked for him. He was alive, that was a relief. Your claws sharpened at your will, and you grinned at those who dared to approach you with their filthy intentions. “I’m sorry dear fans, but I don’t do fansignings.” You said, and you tore at the throat of the one closest to you. 

Your once pure dress was stained with blood, and you were honestly really glad that you’d swapped your clothing. You didn’t want to get the clothes you worked so hard for getting stained with so much blood again.

Out of the blue, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned swiftly to attack whoever it was, but it was just Alastor. You’d barely held back from hitting him, and you pulled your arm back. “How many?” You asked as you took back the microphone stand from one of the heads of those you’d killed. Bits of his brain was still on the stand, and it would have made you sick to see it if you weren't used to it.

From the far corner of the room you heard Alastor’s voice. “Twe...e...nty.” He said. You looked ahead and saw a radio on the bar, most likely something that Rio owned. 

You smiled. It looks like he could extend his range for that wide. Nice. “Nineteen, better keep up if you want to keep me with ya huh?” You said with a grin, to which he smiled back at. He tore a man’s head from his body and laughed through the radio. The static in the air grew stronger as you saw his eyes turn into radio dials.

You could smell the bloodlust from him as he started to kill more demons. Killing was abnormally easier today, especially for demons who were rich enough to even have access to a little speakeasy. One would assume that richer demons would be more powerful, but all of these guys were so weak that it turned into a hunting game for you.

Some of them were smart enough to know that there was no killing Alastor and you, so they attempted to escape-- however, _that wouldn’t do_. You grabbed at their horns and their hair and slammed it against the floor. They lie on the floor, begging for mercy as they stared at you in fear. The bloodlust turned into a scent of fear, which was so addicting. It was an inexplicable scent that you’d grown addicted to. “If you wanted to fight me, you should have thought about it from the start.” You said sweetly, before digging your heels into their eyes. 

By the end of the fight, the total tally turned to Thirty to Thirty five, with Alastor being five favors ahead of you.

You looked at the pile of dead bodies that you’d built together with Alastor and felt a smile crawl up to your lips. “I’m starting to think that maybe we shouldn’t get a job next time.” You said, a chuckle rising to your chest.

“I...it wa...as fun th...o..ough.” He said through the static, and you couldn’t help but to agree. It is fun, especially when you were on stage. It was truly a shame that Alastor hadn’t been able to sing, he must have had such an amazing voice. If Alastor had sung, you would have danced well, and you knew that it might be better than you singing alone on stage. 

But like he said, even if there were a few… disturbances, this was fun.

You’d walked out of the room, following after Alastor who was smiling at you. Outside was Rosie having tea with Lola and Poppy, chattering as Rio had been cleaning the window. Despite the fact that Rosie had literally left you on your own to kill her patrons, you felt no sense of hate for her-- mostly because you had faith that she was going to pay you for what you’d successfully done, which was to eradicate the handsy crowd that she so despised.

The moment she saw you, a smile grew on her face. “My, you’re done already?” She asked, her voice smooth as she put her teacup back on the saucer.

“We have quite an experience down here as is, so of course we are.” You answered, a polite smile on your face as you approached the woman. “I apologize for the mess we’re leaving, we had to be a little dirty to handle them.”

“Oh no, dear. I do not mind at all.” She said with a smile. “After all, you’d cleaned them up for me _quite nicely_.” Rosie hummed, obviously pleased. “I’d done well with choosing the both of you. Alastor and… and you with no name, correct?”

It occurred to you that your name has never been uttered on the lips of anyone in this place. There was no point in letting anyone know. Now that you thought of it, you knew it was better if you had no name. “And I don’t intend to have one.” There was no point in it. If people were going to know you, you didn’t want your name to be tainted by the denizens of Hell.

“Understandable, dear.” She said politely. “Now, it wasn’t discussed, but here is your payment for this special request. Thanks to you two, I am able to start up a new shop without being bothered by my previous patrons.” Rosie’s smile then fell a bit. “Though this may also serve as your severance pay due to the fact that I won’t need your services again. I hope you understand you have been such a great performer and it _truly_ breaks my heart to have to fire you.”

Alastor’s chirping static seemed to answer for her, as he bowed the same way a gentleman would. He gave her a smile that she understood. 

It was funny how two incessantly smiling demons could communicate through a smile alone. 

Also kind of scary.

“Here, take it and leave.” Rio said, giving back the bag that held Alastor’s radio. His flirtatious attitude towards Alastor gone (which Alastor was pretty happy about). He then gave a different bag to you. You checked the contents of the bag, and saw that it was full of cash. Your eyes widened at the amount of money you’d earned from just _killing_ this many people.

You both were escorted towards the exit by Rio, with Rosie and the twins trailing behind. Everyone was just by the door when Rosie spoke. “Will that amount suffice? It’s half the money we earned today, and I’m afraid that we can’t afford to give you more.”

Alastor’s radio turned on, and he proceeded to speak. “I...it’s moo..ore tha...an en..ough.” He said with a smile. Rosie looked very amused by the way Alastor spoke, especially since it was though technology that she had most likely never seen in her life (though she’d definitely in her afterlife). She tilted her head a bit as she looked at him in a studying manner.

“Oh my, what a rare occurrence.” Rosie said, her grin wide once again. “Rio, darling, we’ve chanced upon not just one, but _two_ strong ones tonight!” The woman said, overjoyed. “It’s been so long since Hell has welcomed those with so much _potential_. Do stay in touch.” Rosie said.

The smile on Alastor’s face seemed dull, which meant that he was not happy. “By any chance, do you have any idea how he could speak better?” You asked. You knew that it was what he was unhappy with, which is why you felt the need to help. Besides, this counts as a favor. “You seem to know a lot about this type of things.” 

Rosie gave you a sad smile, one that you knew was out of pity. “Apologies, darling. To each their own are the powers that are granted to denizens of Hell.” So it was only Alastor who could help himself regarding that. You felt disappointed.

“We...e’re o..off.” Alastor said, raising his hand as a wave. The two of you were about to leave when the door was suddenly blocked by Lola and Poppy. “Wait!” They shouted in unison. “We won’t allow you to leave _like that!_ ”

Much like a while ago, you were suddenly thrown into the fitting rooms where cloth was flying everywhere. It didn’t take long until you were all cleaned up with new clothes. “I put more clothes in the bag for you, _take very good care of them_ !” Lola said, and she proceeded to push you out _again_. 

Alastor was also outside, wearing a different suit this time. He was wearing a bright red dress shirt with two long strips of a darker cloth that intersect each other at the middle of his chest, with a matching burgundy dress pants and a bowtie with bright red in the middle. His coat was more stylish and more fitting, made of a thinly striped dark red cloth.

If you didn’t know any better, he looked like a demon who’s been in Hell for a long time already.

“Consider this as our thanks for today. We like you guys so visit often!” Poppy said with a grin, waving goodbye to you both enthusiastically. You left the shop, waving at the people you’d met.

~+~

Rosie sat as she was having tea in an empty room. It’s been so long since the incident when she’d last seen the little Lamb and her friend, Alastor, that she felt like they’ve become memories of her life. Everything had changed since they’d arrived, and most of it hadn’t been for the good. 

The lady took a sip of her tea while she listened to the radio. She had one of these more modern technology sitting at the other side of the room, but she preferred the radio when it came to her tea time. Rosie believed that the Picture Shows on television have the ability to suck in all of your attention, and she didn’t really like that. 

That wasn’t the only reason. Every day, at this specific hour, she would hear news of someone she’d call a friend in hell other than Franklin. It was a way to reminisce the way things were, when they’d opened up Rosie’s Emporium. Entering the room was Lola, alone.

Lola had changed a lot. Instead of her bright neon yellow attire, she now dawned dark blue clothing. It was like she was mourning-- which was true, because her twin sister was currently in recovery. It was unlikely for her to survive, but Lola still had hope. 

“Ms. Rosie, it’s time.” Lola said. She sounded more her age if she counted the years in the afterlife. 

The twins, Lola and Poppy were children of a famous seamstress of the 1890’s. They were older than Rosie, but they still saw her as a mother. Rosie had saved them from a slave cartel immediately when she had fallen, and without them Rosie wouldn’t have built such a wonderful home. However, ever since Poppy had become… _inconvenienced_ , Lola had changed.

“Ms. Rosie.” Lola called again, taking Rosie out of her trance. _Right_ , the Radio.

Rosie put the cup and saucer on the table, and leaned towards the radio. The lady had turned it to the channel where they would hear the broadcasts of mass carnage among the demons. Rosie was a lady, but even she had grown fond of the screams of begging and pain of those who fell under the hand of the Radio Demon and his Lamb. They've been a hot topic in Hell for three exterminations already, and it was honestly surprising how this was an even greater event than the marriage of Lucifer and Lilith. Hell, if the rumors were right then they were probably _invited_.

The moment she turned the dial, she reached his station. It was just in time, since the genocide had begun. While Rosie shut her eyes, the music of pain had come into her ears. It was a wonderful song that she couldn’t get sick of listening to, but the entertainment wasn’t her sole purpose for listening.

No. This was a reminder that if she hadn’t welcomed that scrawny demon and the girl in rags, then she would have been featured in the radio show as a victim of the Radio demon and his Lamb.

She was fortunate that it was only Poppy and Rio who perished- she still had Lola.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had trouble thinking of an appropriate song, so I used Bita and the Botflies' cover of Old Number Seven by Devil Makes Three. If you wanted to listen, you can have it here!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5fOAtdYlYHk  
> Just saying, but I really love this band *u*


	4. Stardom

“Seventy four!” You said, dropping the head of some rich, annoying guy on Alastor’s table. It was a cleanly severed head, the type that won’t really make a mess. In the two weeks that you’ve known Alastor, you figured that he didn’t like _messy_ . He was a very neat person, even when in the act of killing. You were quite the contrary, since you loved a brutal killing. There was just this _artistry_ in making your prey’s carcass scatter around everywhere it had once stepped on.

This time, your victim was a typical sort of demon, without any specific animal alignment. Killing him wasn’t hard, given that you weren’t the type to prolong a victim’s suffering unless you were bored. Right now, you were quite occupied and you didn’t have it in yourself to play around with this one. Your hands hadn’t been as bloody as it had usually been after a kill, mostly because you left most of the labor to your powers.

There was a smile on Alastor’s face as he heard you. He hadn’t even looked at whose head you brought on a silver platter when you saw him grin wider. “To s...se...seventy s...six.” He said, which made you feel a tad bit proud. He was getting a hand of his ability to speak through a radio, and to think he had been able to _lip sync_ it at that! Not only that, but he’d acquired a brand new Radio from a recent shop owner who had offended you. The Atwater Kent radio wasn’t thrown away, most likely due to the fact that he had grown emotionally sentimental towards it.

He may have been simply practicing his speech, but you weren’t sure if he was mocking you. Alastor was seated on a stool in front of a piano, a typical sight for someone like him since he was quite talented in the arts of musicality. He was merely staring at the keys, his eyes not leaving the board that he hadn’t played since you’ve entered the room.

His counting and his obvious highlight of the fact that you were just two points lacking in order to escape had made you wonder if he was intentionally making fun of the situation. Regardless, you’d decided against letting it get to you. It was a game you were both playing, and you weren’t admitting defeat just yet. Not only that, but the gap between your scores was closing in. 

The deal was soon going to be over, and you were going to finally get that dream you always wanted-- a quaint little house, isolated from the buzz in the center of Hell. However, you knew that Alastor was just mocking you. He would lessen the gap, only to make it wider later on. It irritates you how easy it is for him to win at this game, and as far as you were concerned, your abilities stretched as far as your imagination could. You were equal to him in every way, so what made him so _superior_ in this damned game?

It’s been two weeks since the incident at Tiger, and you’ve both been the favorite word among the denizens of Hell. You two have become famous since the murder of sixty five people at Tiger Tailoring (which closed soon after due to the ‘traumatic’ experiences of the owner, Rosie.) She’d spread the word about new players in hell, those who people would be wise to avoid. It wasn’t much to start a rumor, especially after the attention you’ve attracted after killing so many denizens. You had to admit, it was fun. There was close to nothing that could go against you, and if they did, they would end up on the floor without even a single drop of blood spilled from you. You had abilities, ones that seemed to contrast against your seemingly dainty persona.

Speaking of abilities. You looked at your shadow that had been cast on the floor, and saw it smiling back at you. It was creepy, you had to admit, but it was pretty damn cool. “Hello there.” You said. The shadow shifted to the wall, waving at you. Ever since you’ve met Rosie, you’ve discovered what she meant by ‘potential’. You had abilities that not everyone had, and one of them, your favorite, was being able to animate your shadow. You put out your hand for the shadow to take. Sure, you had abilities, but you needed practice. 

The shadow took hold of your hand, and you pulled it into existence. 

It was a void that took shape. The monster you made was twice your size, hunched so that it was able to respectfully reach you. This being you’ve made was a creature who would respond to your every beck and call, and not disappoint. Animating it was no difficult feat, because you understood your powers. This wasn’t just your shadow- it was someone you had killed, or at least it took the shape of the people you killed.

The way you understood Hell was the same way you understood your powers. To be able to get stronger, _you must kill_.

You were brought out of your daze when Alastor spoke. The shadow fell to the floor and returned to its normal state. “Are” there was a large gap of static in between, which made Alastor cringe through his smile. “Yo...ou rea...ready for to...tomo...tomorrow?” Alastor asked, he was getting frustrated at the rate that he was speaking. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” He smiled better now, and so he hummed as he pressed a key on the piano. He frowned a it, and settled on another one that seemed lighter and less heavy than the last. “Be...et...better.”

The two of you have found quite a place in Hell, but it wasn’t permanent. It was a mutual understanding that staying in one place was no fun, especially if people would be scrambling to leave the vicinity if they knew you’d be there. “What’s happening tomorrow?” You moved towards the window, looking down at the scrambling demons. They all must have heard the news of there being a new demon in town, and they were all panicking. 

Alastor looked at you, as if he was waiting for something. “ _Breaking news! This is Harold Hellhound of 666 news_ !” He turned to the radio, a knowing grin on his face. _“It’s been 16 years since the big Don Diggs from the third circle has emerged to society! It seems that it isn’t just the lower demons being stirred by the unknown new players in Hell, but also the big guys like him! Sources say that this could be a challenge declared towards these new players. Will they come up? Who will rise in victory? Stay tuned for more-!”_ The sounds from the radio turned to static.

You laughed. That was the first time Alastor had done that trick. “Damn, that’s a really nice skill.” You said, to which he smiled and bowed. _Thanks_ , is what it meant.

“So?” He wanted to show up, and he wanted to show them. Alastor was an entertainer who loved to entertain and be entertained. He was seriously suggesting that you both _murder_ a bigshot in hell. 

It was a typical for him nowadays to suggest going anywhere while also implying that he was going to murder anyone who did as little as look at him wrong. If he was going to make chaos, then the chances of him raising the gap between what you owe him and what he owes you would get higher. But, “The third circle, right?” where was the fun in laying low? You were in the Afterlife, you had all the time to waste. Besides, this game wasn’t that bad at all. It was fun, and it’s always been fun. It was a competition, and you were having a great time. Sure there were a few dead bodies here and there, but what about it? It’s Hell.

You walk towards the kitchen counter, setting up the materials and ingredients for a nice cup of coffee. Alastor didn’t like tea, and he’d prefer coffee which was bitter. You didn’t mind much which beverage you were drinking, but you’d have to agree that Coffee was much preferable here. Tea just doesn’t do well with the sort of water and scent down here. “Coffee?” You asked. If you were going to make coffee for yourself, you might as well ask if he wanted one. It’d save some time.

“O...of co...our...course darling.” He said, the static getting hard to control. There was still no sound from the piano. “That would be seventy five, no?”

That snapped you out of it. Of course, this was still a favor. Why didn’t you count it? In fact, this wasn’t the first time. Alastor had to count for you a few times already in recent. It was for things like cooking for him, singing for him, things that you didn’t consider as favors. What was with you? You have to keep counting. If Alastor were unfair, he’d be winning this game of yours in a landslide. You looked at the boiling pan, wondering, and laughed. “You’re right, better up your game if you want to keep me, Alastor.”

You weren’t able to notice the small tinge of gasoline that hadn’t come from the stove.

You took the pan from the stove and poured the grounded coffee into it then placed a cover. There was a heavy feeling in your chest, one that you knew you hadn’t felt in a long time. What did this mean? What does it mean to willingly do something without minding if it would benefit you or not? This feeling in your chest was one akin to nervousness. You had been so used to keeping everything in control that you’d forgotten the feeling of having something uncontrollable in your hands.

Stop. This wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Where in the third circle?” You asked, changing the topic. This was something that you could dwell on later. You didn’t want to think now. What would be the point? You were happy with the way things are right now, that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. “Harold Hellhound hadn’t really said much about the details.”

As if on cue, the phone rang. The two of you had been able to afford a lot of things since you’d gained money from Rosie, so you would consider yourselves rather well off down here. You were about to get it, but Alastor was already on his feet. You turned towards the the pan, realizing that the coffee must have settled already. You took two cups and a ladle and scooped the both of you a serving of the hot drink.

You heard the phone go back to the holder. There were already two saucers with cups of coffee on it in your hands by the time Alastor had hung up. He took one of the cups and sipped. “So, who was the caller that you hadn’t immediately hung up on the poor sod?”

After taking a sip, Alastor grinned at you widely, his sharp white teeth showing. “Address.”

~+~

The fine establishment you entered was almost fully occupied, even after you’d nearly destroyed it a week prior after the recent Angelic Purge. Demons who rose to power after you’d slaughter the slate clean were all having the time of their lives with their newly acquired power and riches. You’d hear choruses of laughter and shouts of joy as they all socialized in order to climb the hierarchy.

It smelled like burnt metal and rotten flowers here, and you did not like it.

You and Alastor stood by the entrance, blocking the first exit that they may escape to. Your eyes wandered around to search for your primary target, Don Diggs. There was no sight of him anywhere, which is why you were going to have to draw him out.

With a clap of your hands and the loud screech of Alastor’s newly acquired radio, all the attention centered onto you. “My, isn’t there just a _wonderful_ audience.” You said, clasping your hands together as you feigned awe at the large crowd of people. The scent of burnt metal disappeared, and replacing it was the smell of _fear_ . It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to in the time you’ve been in Hell. The smell of fear was the most alluring scent, that cannot be described in words alone. It was a wonderful experience to be able to smell the fear of your prey as they stare into your eyes-- _the eyes of death_. 

“I think we’ve been invited? Can anyone point us to where Don Diggs is _hiding_?” You exclaimed cheerfully.

In less than an instant, countless guns were pointed at you. The scent of _everything_ spiked up, and caused for a mixture of every scent you’d known of. This was going to be an ordinary crowd. “That doesn’t answer us, but I get your message.” You commented. It wasn’t a shock, considering that they were residing in the Don’s fine casino (that was rigged. You were sure since the last time you’d destroyed the place). “All of you against little ole us?” You looked shocked, as if you’d wanted to cry. A few, and only a few had fallen for it. The rest were smart. “ _Fair enough._ ” You grinned, and less than an instant you prompted all of them to shoot at you both.

You extended your arms outwards, and instantly your shadows emerged to protect you. The darkness enveloped you, forming an indestructible shield. Distinct, smiling creatures of different shapes and sizes had come from the floor and animated to your will. The darkness in your arms seemed to crawl up as you used your powers, and your eyes glowed brightly against the darkness. It was as if everyone was going to see this sight as the last thing they’ll ever see. They took all the hits with a smile, and began to attack the rest. 

Alastor was beside you as you started to murder people. His own shadows had gone to work, making sure that the scales of the favors were tipped to his side. He looked around for radios around the room from where he was standing, and he looked delighted when he came across a few in the room. “ _Don Diggs, where are you?”_ He said in a singing, teasing voice. He was excited.

Unlike you, Alastor didn’t really understand his abilities. He had somewhat of the same method of animating his shadows, but he still could manipulate the radios. It came in bursts of magic, where he could only speak if he was ecstatic, or if he had a vast amount of passion in what he said.

There was so much screaming all around, and you had barely even moved a muscle in killing. It was getting boring, so you decided to join the action. You stepped out of the shadows, and sharpened your claws with the help of the darkness you controlled. At the sight of you, countless of demons had aimed to attack you.

A specific one had gone at you with a whole bloody saber in hand. It was funny to see a guy with a sword in a casino full of people wearing sleek suits and ties, it was like seeing a cartoon character in the newspaper. Now that you thought of it, the entirety of the place looked like a grotesque cartoon. You laughed a bit, thinking at how funny this dire situation was.

Regardless, you dodged the swing of the saber and you kicked the wrist down. He didn’t let go as you expected, but that was no problem. After all, you were able to land a deep gash along his back. He glared at you at the hit, and you looked at him with an amused expression. “You can tell the Missus that it was the raccoons?” You laughed.

“Wish I could.” He growled and swung again at you. “But you killed her!” You dodged the swing of his sword and grabbed his arm. The strength at how you held it made him drop the sword, and you swore that you could feel a few bones going out of place at the amount of power you put into the hold.

You smiled at him sweetly. “Sad.” You used your other hand to sink your thumbs into his eyes, popping the eyes. He screamed at the pain, but you felt pity for him. It was all cause and effect, and this was an effect of murder. “I sincerely hope you go somewhere better.” Your shadows crawled into his head, and in an instant caused an explosion of spikes. 

Every step you took was a person dropping dead on the floor. Your claws dug into so many eyes, so many necks and so many guts, and there was no stop. It was really convenient how Lola and Poppy had provided you with red clothing instead of white ones, because the blood of others won’t be easily seen if the cloth it was spilled on was already the color of blood.

Of course you were going to have to clean it, but at least you won’t look as disgusting on the way home. 

You proceeded to run around, murdering all those who would come your way.

Alastor, on the other hand, had no problem at all. He looked at how you were doing, and you seemed like you were massacring everyone with ease. He’d witnessed you manipulating your shadows with ease, as if you let them all have their own minds, obeying only one master-- and that was you. 

When he looked at you, he saw power. He had to admit, it was attractive. Power was such a beautiful thing that designated people their places in the Underworld, and to witness you, his _star_ , rising to the stage-- oh, the world was not deserving of such a _terrible_ and _cruel_ person. He knew what you were, and he _knew you_. You were a star deserving of a stage where all the side characters serve as foil for the gem that is the Lamb.

He was a theatre person, a big one in fact. Alastor was a performer, one of the best that his time had to offer. While his life on Earth had never mattered, it was what lead him here, with you.

A man who removed his coat as to not disturb the fight had approached Alastor. It didn’t take him much effort to send him to the mouth of a monster he had created. The thrum of power shifted the natural ways of the environment, the static had turned physical, sharp enough to wound those in his vicinity. Alastor had great comprehension of his powers, that was a given. However, he was getting impatient.

Alastor had left the fight for the monsters he’d summoned, and he focused on the radios. 

He was once a radio host, a charming one who had everyone changing the radio channels so that they could listen to their favorite radio host in New Orleans. It was such an amusing thing that his voice was now reliant on the very thing he had monopolized back in his life among the living, but it was getting annoying how much he didn’t understand how it worked. 

There was a specific feeling to it, a specific tension to his yearning, a sort of greed that was beyond the material things. He didn’t understand _what_ it was, but he was so close.

Among the mess of people around the vicinity, Alastor stood in the middle, activating every Radio he could reach. He imagined how things used to be when he was alive, and he felt like his throat wasn’t constrained. There it was, the feeling of excitement, the thrill of being listened to all over the city.

Music erupted from all the radios that Alastor could access, save for the few within the area. He didn’t want the surprise to be spoiled. “ _Welcome citizens of the Underworld! Tonight we bring to you a_ ** _wonderful_** _program, ‘Stardom’! Brought to you by your two new favorite players.”_ His grin grew wider as he began to enthusiastically broadcast the carnage he brought. There was no doubt that this would bring all the attention to the both of you, and that things would be different if there were eyes on you. However, he was a performer, and he saw so much _potential_ in you. You were his star, one that he knew would surpass even him.

Alastor knew well enough that you deserved the fame, the status, the glory of _Stardom_ . You may have forgotten your past life, but the memories you make in the burning stage of Hell was one that he wanted to make _wonderful_ for you.

Passion. There it was. Passion is what enabled his speech. It was what drove him back when he was alive, and it will be his only driving force now in the afterlife. 

He described all the brutal tales of the murders of countless of people, and the way he did it, he was sure that he was able to deliver the message beautifully. Alastor had made sure not to not mention where he was, but he was certain that with all the details he had announced, they _probably_ got to guess where he was.

With each body dropping down the floor, Alastor could feel the excitement rise through his skin, exuding his static. His eyes much like dials were the last thing that most of the people in this establishment had seen, and the thought of it was _exhilarating_.

In Alastor’s excitement however, he had left a very small opening for someone to hit him. A demon crept up from behind him, hunger for blood evident in his eyes as he stalked towards the smiling red killer. He would be the one to murder this newblood, and he would be rewarded by the Don for his excellent work.

The countless of other workers had been distracting him from the front, leaving room for this young demon to be able to attack.

So in a swing of his metal pole, he hit the newblood in the head. He felt his chest swell when he heard the clang of metal against his skull. He won. He was going to be rich! The unnamed killer took a step back, and for safety measures, he swung again to hit red in the head. “ _Yikes, that could kill someone!_ ” Imagine the dread of the unnamed worker when he saw the pole get caught in the hand of the red killer. 

In a swift movement, the small, nameless denizen had the same weapon go through his head. Bits of his brain had come out to the other side, and this beautiful scenery was described fluently through the radio.

That’s right, _no detail will be spared._

Music played from the different Radios in the room, and the entire spree of genocide was practically witnessed by everyone who had been listening to the radio. No doubt that this will be in the news for a while. This was what had to be done to become a star.

Soon enough, everyone stopped when there was a loud thud on the floor, right in the center of the room. The ruckus in the room had ceased fully when a loud chorus of high-pitched voices. “BACK OFF!” From attack, they all shifted to defense from the shadows.

The shadows all returned to you, forming into one smiling creature that tailed you. You looked towards the center of attention, which was an old respectable looking man who held pride in his chest. He looked very human, save for the fact that he was blindfolded. His skin was a pale blue without a tint of life in it. His hair was a dark blue, slicked back with a good kind of gel, and his suit was simple but classy. There was age in his skin, telling you that he died when he had been in his senior years.

Based on his aura alone, you knew _why_ he was called a Don around here.

Surrounding him were a bunch of imps, all wearing masks carved to make them look like they were smiling, with their sharp teeth and glittering masks. Their outfits were much like the things you would see in a circus, where they would dress up like clowns wearing jester hats. Just looking at them made you know that they would be weak if they were alone. However, they were in large groups.

The Don turned towards Alastor, who was at the other side of the room. You didn’t know how he knew, since he was blindfolded, but he was able to pinpoint where your friend had been standing. “I see you’ve come.” His voice was old, and weary, but you knew well enough not to be fooled by it. He was strong, and you will not underestimate him.

Alastor seemed to have the same idea, keeping his eyes on the old man without any intention to act brashly. “Of course. I was inv...invited.” He said through the radios. The hype of the kill had died down, and it was going to get harder to speak now. Alastor found that _annoying._

And as if the Don couldn’t get on his nerves enough as it is, he had motioned his imps to do something. The imps had shot the radios in the room, excluding one. “That’s better.” The Don said, his calm facade gone. He broke into a wicked smile as he sensed Alastor’s irritation. The old man looked at you this time, and even if you couldn’t feel his gaze, you felt a sudden weight in your chest. It was then when you noticed the scent that this man was emitting. “Now, young lady. What brings you here?”

Without a hint of hesitation, you answered. “Your promise of fun.”

What you smelled on the Don was the strongest amount of bloodlust that you’ve ever smelled down here, and then it occurred to you _how_ he went to the top. He was just like you and Alastor, killing his way up the hierarchy to gain some respect. No, it wasn’t just that. He was having fun, he had _power_. 

He waved his hand, sending all the imps to the sidelines. “Of course.”

~+~

You frowned at the pile of bodies in the middle of the room, feeling disappointed. “Well that was underwhelming.” You said, sitting on a pile of demons who you’d murdered. “I was hoping he’d have more of a challenge, y’know?” You looked at Alastor who was seated near you, wiping his new radio with a handkerchief.

“W...We’re far too str...strong, darling.” Alastor said through the radio with an amused smile. “It’s n...not the...their fault they’re s...so weak.” The static was getting better, as if Alastor had gotten the hang of this entire thing. You didn’t want to comment on it, but you swear that his speech had more clarity now that he was able to kill more people.

“Well, technically this was a waste of time so this doesn’t count as a favor for both of us.” You said. “Unless you thought this was difficult, was it?” There was a taunt to your voice, as if you were giving him a choice. Sure, he had killed more people than you tonight, but if he was so insistent to widen the gap, then he had to admit that he had a difficult time. And if you learned one more thing about Alastor in the weeks that you knew him, you _knew_ he was a prideful man.

You almost laughed when you saw his eye twitch in annoyance, his grin a bit strained. “Of c...course not.” He said, his voice more like static now. “But the a...address counts.” _Right_ , you forgot that it was him who answered the phone.

“Seventy five to seventy seven.” You declared.

Alastor then got to his feet, and started a fire with his own powers. “Seventy e..eight.” He said, before setting the pile ablaze. _Damn_ . That counted! You growled a little, taking note to volunteer when you had to burn the pile. He walked towards you, giving you a hand. You raised your eyebrow, sending him a questioning look. “This won’t count. Cro...cross my heart hope to die… _again_.” His grin was wider now, playful. You smiled back, and took the hand. Alastor and you had walked towards the exit, leaving the pile on fire for someone else to clean up. 

It only took one step outside Don’s casino until your sight was crowded with flashing lights and an influx of noise. You weren’t able to react as you should have, because it all happened so quick. Everywhere you looked, you saw cameras and demons and camera-demons. They were all reporters, all thirsting for the latest news. You thought you were going to get blinded by all the flashing of the cameras, and you thought you were going to become deaf.

You looked at Alastor, who seemed unfazed by all the cameras.

He may have been not care, but you were getting _very irritated_. The shadows casted by the blasts of light were getting stronger, and you didn’t want to keep it waiting. With a motion of your hand, your shadows shielded you. It formed a barrier, pushing everyone out of the way. It wasn't enough to hurt anyone, but who knows if there were anything destroyed. “Excuse me.” You muttered as you continued to walk.

You sped up, feeling uncomfortable with so many eyes on you. You felt uncomfortable with all the people around you, documenting your crimes. True, you had fun, but it was still something to be ashamed of. What you do in your free time is your business, and you didn’t like anyone else seeing it.

Someone placed a hand on your shoulder, and you felt the need to break the arm of the stranger who _dared_ touch you. You grabbed the hand tightly and turned to the owner of the hand, only to see that it was just Alastor. Your eyes widened as you realized what happened. “Sorry, just a bit jumpy.” You let go of the hand, and started to look everywhere.

“Shall we?” Alastor said, his voice now smooth and without falter save for the faint static accompanying his voice. He leaned downward, the same way a gentleman from your time would if they were asking for a dance. He offered his hand to you with a smile. You didn’t know what was up with him, but you reached to take his hand. He can’t hurt you, not with the deal still in place.

Before anything happened, a flash of light had appeared, disappearing just as soon as it came. You were unable to react to it, before you saw your world warp into a familiar scenery of a grand piano with the Atwater Kent breadboard.

The rush of power that seemed to merge with yours made your head ache, then you felt an odd dizziness. You felt woozy, unable to keep your balance. Alastor had been there to catch you, his arms enveloping you as your knees almost gave in to the weight of the world. The killing was fun, but everything after made you feel horrible. 

Lights went out, and the last thing you saw was Alastor’s smile.

“ _Seventy five to Eighty”_


	5. Showstopper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time can do so many things to a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited it a bit as of August 23, 2020 in preparation for the latest update!

A man clad in red waited patiently in front of a restaurant, a permanent smile on his face. His eye was sharp, waiting for a person to walk out of the fine establishment. There was something important that this person had, and it was something that he needed to take. 

He _rarely_ takes no for an answer, and that was exclusive to one single Lamb. No one else.

The restaurant was one of fine quality. It was mainly built with sleek marble, with barely a piece of dirt or blood on the face of the beautiful facade. The sign was distinct, and it would catch the eye of many who would pass by. It was a simple logo of a pig’s head biting an apple, placed on a silver platter.

Everything around Hell had changed a lot. The buildings that he was so accustomed to when he’d first fallen had all disappeared, replaced by more modern displays and shops. It was to be expected, since it had already been eight decades, since he’d fallen. While it was expected, he wasn’t exactly _happy_ about it. One thing Alastor hated _most of the time_ was change. He didn’t appreciate it when it was something that was both not very entertaining and uncontrollable.

Regardless of his disdain, the man hummed, enjoying the company of the static. He enjoyed his voice, after waiting so long for it to come to him, he decided to enjoy what he had before someone would take it away from him-- not that he’d let them. This man was someone who many people feared, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. _No_. He wasn’t going to go down at all.

He was already rock bottom, in Hell. How can it get any worse than this?

It didn’t take long until a figure emerged from the doors, alone and without a single guard in her vicinity. She was a very shapely woman, with blond hair and eyes darker than the abyss that he had the ability to summon. It was enough to draw any normal demon in to get sucked into those dark and mysterious orbs. Her skin was deathly pale, almost enough to challenge the paleness of her platinum blond hair. All color on her skin were on her lips, drawing most people down to the plumpness of them.

She was a beautiful woman, but she was boring to him.

As she walked out of the establishment, it took only a flicker of raw power for her eyes to suddenly catch his. When she saw him, a polite yet cold smile grew on her face. “Alastor.” She said. Her voice reminded him of honey overflowing a spoon, dripping off in a delightful manner. Alastor hated sweet things, and he especially had a strong hatred for this same woman.

But Alastor was a polite, civil gentleman. He had seen no reason to become so hostile towards her, and he had known as much as anyone in Hell that even _he_ was not strong enough to challenge the first female sinner. “Lilith! What a pleasure to meet you!” He said enthusiastically, coating his deep hatred for the woman with a facade of glee and joy. “It’s recently come into my attention that you’ve been having an audience with a specific Lamb, and I am rather intrigued to know _why_.” To anyone, he would have sounded like a man who had been merely trying to pull up a conversation with a friend of his, but Lilith knew that this wasn’t the case.

Alastor was a dangerous man, and it would do her well if she moved cautiously around him.

“She’s just been a polite fellow who I’ve become interested in. There are only so few women with class around these days, and it’s been getting quite lonely for me.” Lilith lied smoothly. Of course that was a reason, but that wasn’t one that he was asking for. She may have had an ulterior motive but it would not be good if him of all people were to find out about it.

The man was getting impatient, the number in his head was flickering, signaling the true, near end of their deal. He will admit it, he was obsessed. He wanted nothing more than to keep the game they had been playing for eternity. He wanted nothing more than to serve his Star and for her to serve him back. Alastor was a man of simple wants, and all he wanted was an eternity playing a game. Who knew that eternity can only happen so long?

Lilith did not move, but there was no sign of discomfort on her face. Alastor was a strong man, but he would be foolish to challenge her. She was the Queen of Hell for a reason, and there was no mercy once she’d decided that someone is unworthy of her patience. However, a dog catcher will not provoke the dog unless deemed necessary. A lion will not play with its food. 

“Now, are we finished here _old friend_?” She had asked. There was only a thrum of static in the air as a reply, and she hummed. “It seems so.” Lilith sighed, and proceeded to walk past. 

The woman was not a stranger to the game of deals. She was the master, and she had known every trick in it. It was a game of chess with no pawns, knights, castles or queens. It was a game of chess in a three-by-three board with only a king on each side, circling around each other until one of them had dared to make a move. The Lamb was one who was trapped into it so early on, causing for two of the strongest denizens to arise decades ago.

Lilith was a sinner, and a trickster. She knew the nature of these games and it was time for someone to win. The best way was to add more pieces, and that was exactly what she did.

“Where is she?” Alastor had asked.

She smiled. _Checkmate._

~+~

You stretched out. You’d just finished decorating the place, with streamers and a banner that says ‘Welcome!’. It was the request of a beloved demon friend of yours who you loved more than anything, other than one other person. You turned to check the grandfather clock and saw that it was already the morning after the extermination. By now, two girls were off the broadcasting station to advertise a little something.

Looking at what you’ve accomplished this morning brought a smile to your face, but you’ve got other plans now. Swiftly, shadows took over your sight, swallowing you whole before melting into the ground. The lone shadow moved swiftly, towards a quaint little village nearby. It came into a stop in front of a humble looking home.

The walls of the house was full of vandalism, but one could know how pretty it must have been when it was newly made. There was no indication of wealth in the house, but there were signs of fair amounts of riches in it. “Mrs. Davison, I’m done with my project.” You said, a basket of your goods in your hands.

The door opened, revealing an old sloth who had been dressed in fairly modern garb- at least what you would assume was modern. It’s been _ages_ since she stopped paying attention to fashion trends.

“Ah, the kind stranger.” The sloth, Mrs. Davison, addressed. “Come in! Come in! I’ve been waiting.” She stepped to the side, but rather slowly. Regardless, you waited for her with as much patience in your pinky as the entirety of hell’s-- which isn’t saying much, but it was enough to say that you were being polite.

You stepped forward into her home, bringing the spools of yarn with you. 

It’s been eight decades since you’ve fallen to hell, and so much has changed. Everything has changed. Not a single stone was left unturned by the cruelty of time, and you weren’t an exception. Hell was less hierarchical than before, but there was a more distinguished line between the powerful and the powerless; the evil and the mistaken; the nobles and the nameless. It’s been a while since you’ve dabbled in politics, and this made you quite uncertain where you lie. 

However, your time when you had been more naive in Hell made it clear that you _were_ something.

“Darling lamb, unfortunately the schedule today will be cut a bit shorter than usual. Poor me has to go fetch some meat for the young’uns.” Mrs. Davison said, cutting off your train of thought. “The extermination a while ago made quite a ruckus with my stock, I can’t leave my babies starving.”

You smiled, and nodded. “Actually, I was about to ask if I can leave for the whole day.” You said. It was a special day today, because it was time for your little Lottie to present her first project to the denizens of Hell. Mrs. Davison didn’t have a picture show, and you wanted to see her live without having to rely on a rerun.

“Wonderful! Now just hand me the basket,” The sloth took the basket of yarn from your hand and dropped it to the side, “And go on your merry way!” She had enough strength in her to push you out of the door without you even straining a single bone in her body. “See you next week lamb!” With that, she slammed the door.

Nowadays, you no longer relied on sins to earn money. You somewhere along your way in your adventures in hell, you learned how to spin wool into yarn, and turning yarn into wonderful pieces of clothing that were considered nice by a distinct number of customers.. You’ve become quite a skillful weaver that you might as well challenge Artemis and Arachnia. Many have bought your pieces, but the price didn’t really matter because you’ve acquired such a fortune for yourself across the decades in Hell.

It's been eight decades, almost nine, since you've fallen, and four since you've been on your own. Time had its own ways to show age, and while you remain un-aging in Hell, there was no doubt that there were some permanent changes to you since you’d left the big stage.

For one, your hair was shorter. You’d figured out a way how to cut your hair for it to _normally_ grow instead of it just bursting out of your scalp. Apparently the only way a Demon’s appearances can only change without having it regenerating the next minute is if it is done by an Angel’s Blade. You’d come across one in your 2nd year on your own, and had the thought to cut your hair. You have no regrets, and you even kept the blade for a whole two decades before giving it to someone more deserving of it. She was doing a better job at using it anyway, especially if she’s keeping Lottie safe.

Another was that your attire was more… comfortable. While you had lived some of your afterlife in grand style and glittering tulles, you had grown pretty tired of it. You’d resorted to just wearing a loose pair of dark maroon pants that was brought together by a belt at your waist, and a plain and simple purple blouse that had covered most of your torso. Your hair, which was now short, was now always decorated with your favorite cloche hat, decorated with a fair amount of feathers and some stones.

You looked nothing like the legend built for you, and you certainly didn’t exude an aura of ‘come within ten feet of me and I will kill you’.

Good.

There was a television shop across the road, and since you didn’t bother buying one (mainly because you didn’t know how to set it up in your temporary place of stay, and because you didn’t trust anyone enough to set it up for you), you resorted to just watching the program through it. No choice. You had to settle for what’s there. Many others had also stood by to watch, mainly because the picture show was broadcasting the current events of the ongoing turfwar in a neighboring side of the circle you were currently staying in. You frowned in distaste. 

Once upon a time you had been in the news, and you had been such a famous demon too. Turf wars were nothing to you, especially since there was no point. The moment you step foot into a piece of land, it was considered yours because no one in their right mind would dare challenge you and your _friend_.

Anyone who _did_ challenge you were people who'd been chewed on.

Now, you were watching as other people _fought_ for their piece of land. If you had been a bit younger, you would have thought it was cute. Now it was just… pathetic to you. There was no point in all of it, because power was useless in the face of pain and change. There will always be something to bring you down.

Unfortunately for you, that something had done it with flying colors.

You cringed when you saw a hot cup of coffee get spilled on Tom Trench’s dick. It was a painful thing, of course, but he’ll be fine in a few minutes. After all, demon’s can’t get permanently damaged. This made torture all the more fun, though very repetitive after a while. 

“Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of Hell’s own head honcho, who’s here to discuss her brand-new passion project!” Katie Killjoy, the newscaster of 666 News declared. This was it! This is Lottie’s segment! “All that and more, after the break!”

Charlotte Magne, otherwise known as Lottie or Charlie, is the daughter of Lilith and Lucifer Magne. The girl grew up in Hell, _literally_ , but she had been raised wonderfully by both her parents. She grew up loved and supported by a shockingly wonderful pair of parents, and you had been there to witness it.

There were two times when Lilith Magne approached you alone. There was no reason to, since the only time you’d ever even met her was during her wedding day that happened long before. You’d been invited because you were getting so much attention that the public wasn’t really interested in the union of the two most powerful demons in Hell. That was showbizz, you guess. 

The first time was right before an Extermination. She sat with you in your table, looking at you with a cold smile. You were pretty shocked that as an an actress and performer, she seemed pretty emotionless to you.

Lilith spoke to you that night, with a clear scent. There were no hidden intentions, and if ever you smelled something, she was able to tell you before you could even figure which one she had been exuding. At the time, the words she said to you were nearly nonsensical if not oddly ominous. It was as if she knew something you didn't, and you weren't certain if she was after your salvation or your demise in teasing you with her knowledge.

She proposed a deal for you to take care of her child that she would soon create, in exchange of 'liberation'.

You refused.

The second time was not long after. Many things have happened since her first approach, and she had easily won you over.

So here you were, decades later. Alone. It was a small price to pay for a life of quietness, but the sinking feeling in your gut that you’d left Alastor on his own was something to account for everyday. You had been avoiding him, because you knew that he wanted something that was beyond your abilities to give anymore-- not since that time. The you who was all about murder and chaos and power. The you who was his favorite show. The you who didn't _know_.

There was some guilt for leaving, because you left him at such a dreadful moment, but it was well deserved for someone like _him_ , and it was well deserved for someone like _you_. 

Sometimes you wonder if he was somewhere out there, smiling and causing the chaos he so loved.

You hate him.

If you saw him again, you would be damned because you may break the deal not to harm him.

You were brought back to reality when the news was back on the television, and this time you saw your little princess. “Lottie!” You squealed in excitement. You smiled as you watched.

“So, Charlotte,” Katie started, her smile larger than her future in showbizz. She was cut off by a small correction on how Katie should have called the princess, but there was no regard to it. “Tell us about this new passion project you’ve been _insistently_ _pestering_ our news station about!” She almost broke her pen, hiding her annoyance through a forced smile.

She reminded you of someone else, and you didn’t really like that.

“Well,” Charlie clears her throat, and looks into the camera. You could feel her nervousness from where you were, and you felt nervous _for_ her. Something was going to happen, and you weren’t very sure what it was. The shadow cast by the studio light was dim, but it was enough to get into in case something happens. Her shadow was faint, but enough for you to see. With a flick of your finger, her shadow came to life, winking at _you_. Good. The camera focuses on your little girl. She becomes proud, acting like she has everything in her control. She was getting there. 

“As most of you know, I was born here in Hell, and growing up, I always tried to see the good in everything around me.” True. You thought. Even as a little girl, she was always so kind and so _good_. She was so out of place down here that you felt bad that she was going through Hell. Literally. Blood was splattered on her cheek, probably from Katie. It was probably her period blood, seeing as the fake bitch was always in a fucking terror of a mood all the time. “Hell is my home, and you are my people. We- we just went through another extermination. We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given a chance! I can’t stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence!” She was so passionate in speaking, her feelings were properly sent to you, and probably the other viewers.

You shut your eyes, remembering your first extermination. All the screams up there, outside the hole you and Alastor hid in. The old grandmother whose house you’d been hiding under was killed, and she was probably undeserving of it.

“So, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell? Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through… redemption? Well I think yes. So that’s what this project aims to achieve!”

Your heart beats faster as you feel your nervousness drag your guts down to the ground. Your heart was going faster than your mind, and you felt your palms grow sweaty. You believed in redemption, but it was only because you got to meet Lottie. Not a lot of people had the same case as you, since they all never got the chance to witness her influence. Charlotte was going to suffer if she pushes through with this. Hell, _everyone_ in the hotel will suffer if this was a public service. The fact that this was going on the news will make her a laughing stock of the century.

However, it was what she wanted, and it was something she truly _believed_ in. To hell with all the consequences. It was a small price to pay.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!” In her enthusiasm, she must have forgotten what you warned her about the first time she even proposed this idea to you. Hell, you were sure that _Lucifer_ was against it! You warned her, and Lucifer warned her that this hotel was going to ruin her. 

It was quiet, as Charlie’s awkwardness returned. “Y’know? ‘Cause hotels are for people passing through… temporarily.” She laughed awkwardly, her figure slouched and insecure.

You had to do something about it, but it wasn’t the time yet. This was live television, and the moment you show yourself to _everyone_ , you show yourself to _him_. 

Don’t misunderstand. You love Charlie, but there were just some things that you don’t want messing with your life anymore. If you help, you would be risking the life you've been building up for two decades now. You were stable. You were free. You were _done_ with your deals and now you were _perfectly fine_. You turned around to leave. She was probably done, and Katie Killjoy won’t have anything to say about it. 

“ _S_ _tupid bitch_ .” You heard. You froze, failing to take another step. It was weak enough for some people to not hear, but _you heard it_. The shadows connecting to your feet grew larger, as your own shadow came to life. Unlike the warm smile that it used to have, she was frowning. Her expression was one of anger and hatred. You scowled.

Self-control. You needed _self-restraint_. 

“Look, every single one of you has something good deep down inside. I know you do.” There was a pause. You turned again to watch her, because you needed to know. You needed to know if she still needed you to save her.

Instead of seeing an insecure girl, you saw a smile and a glint of mischief in her eyes. What was she up to? “Maybe I’m not getting through to you.” She got up on the table, the same way a _performer_ would. It was right then and there when you knew _what_ she was about to do. 

Charlie snapped her fingers, shutting all the lights. The moment the lights switched back on again, she was in the middle of a spotlight, with a grand piano in the middle. Flying to her side were Razzle and Dazzle, her bodyguards gifted to her by her father. 

“Oh no.” You groaned. You can’t watch.

 _“I have a dre-”_ As if your shadows heard your wish, the television in the store all popped, alarming the owner of the shop. In an instant, you ran away. You needed to escape before you had to kill anyone _in self-_ _defense_.

You needed to call Vaggie.

There was a phonebooth nearby. You headed towards it and took out a notebook with all your contact. You hope that her phone still had the same number, otherwise you were going to have to go there _yourself_ . You dialed her number, cursing at the new technology. They just don’t make phone booths the way they used to anymore. The phone rang only once before Vaggie picked up. “Who’s this?” She asked. Her voice was rather tense, as if she was _also_ nervous. You could hear Charlie sing in the background.

“Someone who wants Charlie out of Hell’s attention.” You said, and you could hear a sigh of relief from the other side. Charlie was now singing in a faster speed, her voice going a pitch higher. She was singing something about _c_ _rucifixions_? You were seriously just hoping that people at least like it.

“Holy shit. Mary Poppins is back.” Vaggie jokes, making light of the situation.“So, I’m guessing that you’re seeing this too?”

“Saw.” You winced, remembering the seven devices you just ruined. “I stopped watching. I can’t look.” While you loved Charlie’s singing, you couldn’t guarantee that everyone else did too. They were all a boring set of people, all of them were _against_ singing and dancing and innocent fun. “Listen, can’t you just tone it down a little? I love it, but everyone else in Hell are all fucking idiots.” You said.

You could practically see Vaggie’s frown from where you were. “I know, but she’s loving it.” Vaggie said. “She’s innocent, and we all love that about her. I don’t think I want to stop her even if it means having a horrible reputation.” She was right, though. It really looks like she’s enjoying what she’s doing. “Besides, it isn’t Charlie that should change. It’s Hell.”

“You’re right. Somethings are just-” You were cut off by Vaggie who seemed to be suddenly distracted. There was a loud chorus of cruel laughter. The song was over, and it meant that it was now the time for the demons to react.

“Hold on. Something’s going on.” Vaggie hung up, leaving you to wonder what was going on. 

With a snap of your fingers, you merged with your shadow, travelling faster than anything in Hell. You needed to see what was happening. You knew where to go because you’ve been in that station before once, when Katie Killjoy had just begun with hosting the news.

Besides, you _knew_ where Charlie’s shadow was. 

Swiftly, you moved to the broadcasting room. You hid yourself in the shadows of the other demons, watching what was going on. In front of the room was Charlie and the newscasters. Katie was belittling Charlie. “What in the nine circles makes you think a single denizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person?” You scowled, regretting helping this little bitch out in the past. “You have no proof that this little experiment even works! You want people to be good just… because?” There was humor in her voice, as she enjoyed bullying your Lottie.

You growled, briefly getting the attention of nearby demons. They saw you, and recognized the shade of violet of the shadows. They gulped, shutting up and moving aside. Good. _People still knew you_. 

“Well, we have patrons already!” Charlotte said, indignant. “Who believes in our cause, and shown incredible progress!” She defended, which really shocked you because you seriously doubted that there were people who actually believed in redemption.

Katie didn’t look impressed. Rather, she looked like she was challenging Charlotte. “Oh, and who may that be?” Her tone was one of mocking, as if she wouldn’t believe that her patrons were legit. 

“Oh, just someone named… Angel Dust.” Oh, well _shit_.

Everyone was quiet, as if processing what she was saying. “The porn star?” Tom Trench asked, making sure if he was hearing it right, that one of the most famous sinners in Hell was going for _redemption_. Katie glared at Tom, threatening the poor guy.

“In any case, that’s not even an accomplishment. I’m sure you can get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube.” Katie said, making light of Charlie’s achievement. You immediately started to hate this bitch, especially since she _dared_ to become the antagonist in Charlie’s goals. There was a list in your head, and she moved to top 1 in your ‘If I were to revert back to being _the bitch_ , I’d kill this one’. 

Charlie had a proud look on her face. “Oh, I beg to differ. He’s been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for 2 weeks now.” She listed, smiling proudly.

_Breaking news!_

Katie pushed Charlie off the table, once again being the center of the camera. “We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war!” She announced, and a sinking feeling in your gut made you guess _what_. “Let’s go to the live feed!” And you were right. Angel dust was there, in the middle of the turf war, on Cherri Bomb’s side. 

There was a look of shock and despair on Charlie’s face as she saw who it was. “Oh shit.” She deflated, seeing her latest project becoming a failure. 

“Oh shit indeed!” Katie rubbed in. “It looks like the one who just joined the battle is none other than” she gasped, feigning shock. “Porn actor Angel Dust!” She announced, enjoying the amusement seen on other demon’s faces. They all enjoyed stepping over Charlie, the Princess of Hell. “What a juicy coincidence! You must feel really stupid right now.” She began to laugh, along with the other demons in Hell.

You had half the mind to kill everyone in the room who made fun of your darling.

Charlie was panicking, trying to hide the failure that was being broadcast. Katie enjoyed it, relishing in the embarrassment of the strongest woman in politics in the room. “Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival.” She grinned. “So, who’s your other patron, hm? They’re bound to be as much of a failure as _you_!” There was a chorus of laughter, making you feel so much rage.

The girl looked down, as if she was contemplating. “She requested for it to be completely confidential.” Charlie said, not entirely convincing _anyone_ in the room that this other patron even exists. That just makes her image even worse than it already is.

Charlotte knows why you don’t want to be anywhere _near_ showbizz. She knows you were avoiding someone, and letting the entirety of Hell know that you were one of the patrons would bring danger to you. She understands, and she respects it. You honestly felt so proud that she was able to sacrifice her own dignity to protect you.

And it makes you feel horrible that you hesitate in even helping her out. Your instincts told you to help her, to protect Charlie. But it would risk your identity. You would become known, and you would leave the life you’ve had. _Alastor_ would find you. However, seeing Charlie and Katie going at it, the violence that Charlie normally doesn’t do just being broadcast live-- it was just so _tempting_ to fight, to _kill_ again. 

No. You can’t.

Not with him.

Your chest felt constricted as you heard the laughter of the crowd go wilder, and more rambunctious. Katie seemed to be having the time of her life embarrassing the Princess of Hell. “So you mean to tell me that you lied about having another patron! Oh goodness, what a complete and utter _failure_ your project must be!” 

Silence. There was no laughter. No single utter of a word as a familiar coldness seeped into the room.

As if on cue, the room grew darker, the shadows cast by everyone in the light combining into one. Two glowing eyes appeared from the shadows, and formed into a being. Charlie, Katie, and Tom backed off, avoiding the monster that was being made the center of attention. The shadow materialized, forming a being that was smiling. The darkness melted, revealing a player.

In the middle of the stage was a woman wearing a dark violet, glittering flapper frocks, with a black cloche hat on her head, decorated with jewelry and feathers. Her eyes glowed golden as she scanned the area with sharp orbs. “Apologies, I seem to be late to the occasion.” You said, a dangerous glint in your eye as you looked at Katie.

Everyone in the room was quiet, looking at the new person in the room with awe and fear in their eyes. The Lamb was here, and she was either going to kill someone in the room _or_ she was going to kill _everyone_. There was fear in all their eyes, other than a squealing Charlie and a grinning Vaggie.

Katie seemed rather irritated that her fun was stopped. “Sorry, why are you here?” Katie asked, “I don’t recall there being an interview segment for a relic.” She joked, trying to insult you. You merely smiled, hiding the annoyance at the audacity of this woman.

With a smile on your face, you took a seat at Katie’s chair, infuriating her more. “I am honestly shocked that the rebound for Harry Hellhound is still at work.”

The pen Katie was holding snapped in two, her smile even more forced than it had been just a second ago. “Again, _why are you here_?” She asked.

“I’m one of the hotel’s patrons.” You took Charlie’s hand in yours, squeezing it to give her a sense of protection. “And my first good deed would be helping a friend in need, _no matter the cost_ .” You grinned, a glint of mischief in your eyes as you swallowed in the scent of fear that came from the woman in front of you. But she was brave. She actually thinks she could challenge you. You leaned closer to her, your lips breaking into a wider, more sinister smile. “Don’t worry, _I won’t kill you._ ”

~+~

The three of you were quiet as you stepped out of the station. You were the only one of the three who was unscathed, since there wasn’t much of a challenge in anything or anyone you fought. You stopped, and held Charlotte by the shoulders. “Excuse me, little Lottie.” You said with a warm smile. With a twirl of a finger, she was as good as new. Her clothing was all patched up, and there was not a single sign of a mess on her person. You did the same to Vaggie, who seemed thankful for the act.

“I’m sorry.” Charlie said, her head hanging low. 

You understood why she was apologizing. She had tried her best to hide the fact that you were her patron, and that you had anything to do with the Magnes. However, things had escalated so much that you were forced to intervene, thus revealing your existence back in Hell. 

Everyone thought you were dead, a victim of the Angels, now that they know you’re alive, they were going to target you, challenge you, and even try to take you back-- of course, the issue for them now was the question: could they? 

Regardless, you gave Charlie a smile. One thing you remember in Hell is that a smile will _always_ be able to hide anything. “It’s not a problem, Lottie.” You said, patting her on the head. “Besides, I think that was a grand debut for myself.” Not that you were planning to reveal yourself, but life has its ways-- er, _after_ life.

“Still, I put you in danger now that people know you’re alive! Mom is going to be so mad, ‘cos the deal was all for nothing and-”

“Charlotte Magne.” You said, grabbing her full attention. “You are not to worry about that deal. In fact, the deal _was_ for something, and that something was that I was able to help raise such a strong, independent, kind woman.” You said firmly. “Besides, your mother’s end of the deal was that she would give me an _option_ to leave. I’ve chosen to do everything for my Little Lottie!” With that, you pulled her into a hug.

She hugged you back, tightening it. You could smell how much guilt she was feeling, and you didn’t know how to lessen it. 

“Rather, I feel _furious_ .” You said, the feeling of rage rising to your chest again, bubbling with so much heat. Charlie looked up at you curiously, pulling away from the hug as if starting to apologize. “While I was keeping the project out of the red, our dear friend _Angel Dust_ has been rather troublesome lately.” You said with dark look. “Oh and let’s not forget Katie Killjoy. I'm starting to regret having to murder Harry Hellhound now.” The claws were growing, as the thirst for blood grew stronger. 

Charlie laughed nervously, the guilt waning and being replaced with worry. “N-Now, calm down. We don’t want anyone getting hurt now do we?” You seriously pondered whether or not that was real. “Right?” She sounded a bit more nervous, which made you smile.

A limousine had come to a stop in front of you. “Fine.” You said. “Now then, I’ll pick up dear Angel dust--” A huge void appeared above the three of you, where a screaming Angel had fallen from. There was a rather comedic sound coming from the ground as he hit the floor. He was groaning with bruises and some burnt patches on his skin. He looked up to witness the hateful stares of two, and the sad look from one. Charlie helped him up, without saying a word. “There we go. I’ll be going ahead then.”

Vaggie looked shocked, and at despair. “What, come ride with us.” Vaggie suggested, needing someone to keep her hands away from Angel’s throat. Little did she know that you yourself were going to be of no help in that matter.

You shook your head. “I’ll be going ahead to blow off some steam” _You will be destroying everything in sight once you get back to the hotel_. “No damage done, though!” You plan to fix it up before they arrive.

Charlie knew the subtext in what you said, which is why she chuckled nervously. “We’ll work on cutting back on vandalism at a later date.” She said. “See ya later Lamby.” Charlie hugged again, and went in the limo. Following after was Vaggie, then Angel, who looked at you with a sheepish grin.

Angel laughed nervously, “Hey, now, _friend?_ ” Angel looked a bit disheveled, but he had done a wonderful job at hiding it. It was obvious that he had a _wonderful_ time causing chaos, and ruining the reputation of the hotel that Charlie has been working on for so long already. “Right?” He was trying to make sure that you wouldn’t do anything that would hurt him, after doing the exact thing that would prompt you into doing exactly that.

“Don’t expect good things for you.” You said with threat laced in your voice despite the seemingly innocent and amicable voice. “See you later, _Dust._ ” With that, you pushed him into the car and shut the door behind him.

You watched the limousine depart, knowing that Vaggie was currently spending her time trying to stop herself from killing someone in that car. It was just fortunate for everyone in that car that _you_ weren’t in there, otherwise someone would be dead in a few seconds. When they were out of your sight, you took a step back and turned. You were face to face with your shadow, smiling back at you with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Bring me home.” You commanded, and the shadow swallowed you instantaneously . 

When you opened your eyes again, you were welcomed by the sight of a very nicely decorated hotel. It was made specifically for this occasion, with the banners and everything welcoming everyone to the hotel. Now it was a waste. 

In a fit of rage, you let your inner demons out.

~+~

A man stares at the television, a feeling of relief coming from his chest in waves. It’s been far too long since he’s seen her again, and to think that his effort was all for naught. She had merely revealed herself, without any effort from him or from anyone. To think that it would have been this easy to reveal her current occupation and whereabouts. If he had known sooner that she had been someone who cared for the princess of Hell, he would have done something sooner. 

Then again, if Lilith hadn’t proposed to make a deal with him, he wouldn’t have bothered to watch the picture show at this specific hour, date, and channel. 

He looked at the far wall, where a man named Jeffery had been located. He was gasping in pain, all bloodied up and without limbs. Lilith had been such a big help, informing him of all he needed to do so he could reveal the Lamb’s current disposition. 

Alastor smiled. He had a hotel to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Is moi, emrys. I'm v sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I just had so much projects due, so many exams failed, and so many grades flunking :')  
> ANyway, I put a timeskip here because idk, it felt like it would be nice to leave what happens in between as somewhat of a mystery that'll unravel eventually.


	6. In Medias Res

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I changed a few things in the last chapter, but I think it's pretty unimportant and minuscule save for the time plots of some things and the expression of some parts. The general idea is still the same.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sorry I haven't updated in a w h i l e HAHAHAHA I've been writing a lotta things recently but I don't really post it since most of it gets scrapped alsdkfjsld

It was dark at first, but when you came to, the sight that welcomed you wasn’t one of neatness. It was one of destruction. All the chairs weren’t where they were supposed to be, all the wallpaper had some sort of a tear or black stain on it, and everything was at a disarray. You did this, and you needed to do this, otherwise you were going to have some problems with controlling yourself from killing some people. 

You were about to start fixing your things, but you heard the door slam open, revealing Vaggie and Angel. Vaggie didn’t give the surroundings a second thought, since she had been used to it already. Charlie also didn’t give mind to the mess you’ve made. She’s been with you her whole life in Hell, so of course she would think nothing of it. Angel, however, looked around with awe.

He whistled, his eyes roaming. “Honestly glad you took it out on the couches instead taking it out on me, sweetcheeks.” Angel said, grinning at you. He then proceeded to find the refrigerator, which was barely working after one of your shadows tore it down.

Angel took a popsicle from it, barely together. “It’s prolly a good idea to get some actual food in this place.” He said, biting on the thing. “Y’know, to feed all the wayward souls ya got in here.” He laughed awkwardly.

When he noticed that Charlie was down, he looked like he wanted to bring her spirits up. You almost got your hopes up when you saw it, but he pulled back. Well, at least he was getting there. Angel had potential to be good, because he genuinely cares _sometimes._ You smiled a bit, because this was _some_ progress. It was more progress than you had in the decade when you’d been grieving. 

You approach Charlie, who looked down. “You know, I’m starting to think that maybe dad was right.” She said, but lowly so that Vaggie and Angel won’t hear. 

“Lottie, darling. Cheer up!” You smile, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Smile, honey. If you smile, you’ll feel like the whole world’s smiling with you.” She looked up, her face still down. You tug at her cheeks lightly, pulling it up. The act had caused for her to curl her lips up on her own, which made you feel slightly less shitty for being right. “You know your father loves you, right?”

She smiles at you, but it was a sad smile. Charlie took your hands and set them down. “You know, sometimes it feels like I’m with mom when you’re here.” Charlie admits. 

“Well, I ain’t the real deal, Lottie.” You reminded. “Maybe a talk with your mom would cheer you up. Maybe she’s free right now?” With a wink, a spark flew from your eye. The little twinkle danced around Charlie’s sight, before disappearing when it playfully collided with her nose.

Charlie giggled, before straightening up and mustering up some confidence. Her smile was a bit less sad, with a bit more effort in hiding. “You’re right.” She raised her shoulders, puffed her chest out, and a more confident look was on her face. Charlie looked at you with a playful grin. “Better start fixing things up while I’m on the phone, hm?” Charlie suggested, taking a more authoritative yet lighthearted approach at speaking. 

You rolled your eyes. “Understood Mrs. Boss.” You joked, faking a salute. 

She laughs a bit, before walking out of the hotel for some privacy. She was going to call her mother, with hopes that Lilith was going to answer. It was true that her mother’s schedule would have been a bit less crowded but was also still impossible to contact her. She was a performer, the Queen, and a bunch of other troublesome things, so there was going to be some trouble even catching a second of free time with her, even if it was her own daughter. 

There was no helping it, however. Despite your connections to the Royal Family, you still knew your place in the hierarchy of Hell, so instead of intervening, you instead settled to be an older friend of Charlie. What the royal court orders, it will happen, but the deal between you and the Queen had granted you with so much more wiggle room than you would have anticipated.

You took your time in cleaning the place. While it was possible to just clean it with a snap of your fingers, there was something so entertainingly mundane about such a tedious task that you can’t help but do. Many would kill to have your abilities-- many _have_ killed to attempt anything close to it, but you were already in hell. What do they expect you to do? Reign chaos?

It was a seductive thought. Imagine the power, the fear in their eyes as you drunk up their souls into your arsenal of sins. Imagine their voice as they scream your name, the delicious fear radiating from themselves as the disgusting scent of their scent gets replaced with the scrumptious aroma of their flesh and innards.

But you’ve changed. You’re not one who loved the Limelight-- not anymore.

Charlie came back. You turned and faced her with a chipper face, yet you found yourself rather at a loss when you saw the distraught expression on her face.

A wave of pity fell on you, but you didn’t know how to help. You raised her alongside the King and the Queen who both loved her more than you possibly could, but the way they perceive and express their love was… different. You would know. Charlie was a sweet girl, and she does not deserve to stay in such a place like hell.

Even you knew, alongside the King and Queen, that the Happy Hotel would fail. Charlie was insistent on continuing this project. The difference was that they turned her down, while you were an enabler.

It was a guilty pleasure to spoil her. It was the least you could do to a child who could grow up.

You sighed, and silently proceeded with your clean-up. 

~+~

You always cleaned up after yourselves in your home. No, there was no magic, nor were there anyone else involved, it was just you and Alastor who maintained the small house that you two lived in.

It was rather unexpected of you to do this, but you’ve picked up a fair number of skills in your afterlife. You and Alastor have never parted for long in the time you’ve been together, which meant that whatever skills he had would somehow get passed on to you and vice versa.

What was even more unexpected was that Alastor had these skills in the first place.

“Jambalaya, huh?” You asked, watching his actions and ingraining it in your head for you to repeat eventually.

Alastor turned his head a little bit, his ever-present smile flashing at you. The specific curl of his lip and the nearly unnoticeable glint in his eyes had already spoken so many words to you, which a normal person would have easily missed.

 _“Yes_ ” He had basically said. _“Is there a problem?”_ The underlying tone to the underlying message.

You snickered. This was stupid. “No, unsurprised too, really.” You answered

He shrugged, as if he didn’t know what you meant by what you said. Despite that, you were certain that he knew about your ability to easily catch onto the words between the nearly nonexistent lines that was his smile.

Living with someone for the longest time would do that.

Both of you resided in a curiously humble abode, far away from the bustling city but still rather densely populated (since Hell as a whole is _very_ dense with sinners). Normally people of your status would have had large mansions with enough servants to shelter a small town, but it was an unspoken agreement that the nearest thing to trust that the two of them could experience would be from the presence of one another, and solely that. So no servants, which meant that they would require a smaller home that they could maintain on their own.

Of course, that was completely ignoring the fact that both of you could just clean the entire place with a snap of your fingers. People have to remember that these abilities were often overlooked by their owners when it would come to trivial things. Besides, not having to use these forbidden, sinful abilities would have made Hell something less of a bore than it already is.

Funny enough, you and Alastor were surprisingly rather… domestic people. Alastor knew a knack for the culinary arts, and you had a fair share of skills related to the art of crochet, knitting, and tailoring. It would have made sense since you lived in the 1930’s. Unsurprisingly, women and men didn’t make it a living nor a habit to murder one another for the sake of living another day, which meant that you would have had spent your human life in a normal way _somehow_.

Even funnier is the fact that the both of you would do said domestic actions with a full on attire of clothing that could make the ladies of the 1920’s wish they had murdered a whole generation of sinners. So here you were, learning how to cook from Alastor the Radio Demon, while piecing together an artwork through embroidery.

As you kept your eyes on his actions, your hands were occupied with the embroidery you have been accomplishing for a few days now. While the skill of embroidery was normally something graceful and feminine, the design was rather grotesque for a woman of your time; however, in hell this was a relatively normal thing to see.

The concept to the naked eye was a simple thing— a lamb. It was a beautiful lamb, with the purest fur and a divine essence to it. The look of it was rather astonishing, since it looked rather ethereal for a place like Hell. You hummed as you worked on the final stages of your artwork.

Since you were only a slight bit immersed in your work, you’ve realized that Alastor had finished cooking.

“Wonderful, Alastor. I’m famished!” You set aside your work and walked towards the dining table alongside him. Wordlessly, you took the china and set it on the table. “What was it— five?” You asked, smirking as you finished setting the table.

Alastor only smirked as he set down the Jambalaya at the center. “Six.” He corrected, his speech flawless with only some static in it It was otherwise rather clear in the words.

The system between you two had long changed. You no longer counted the accumulated number of favors between one another—it would be stupid to. It has long reached the billions, counting all the small tasks, and it would be tedious and exhausting to declare such a stupidly long number each time a deed was done. Nowadays, you two had established a newer system.

You only counted the gap now, and Alastor had been keeping it within the single digits recently.

Speaking of, this had been something that’s been plaguing your mind for a while now, and oddly enough, this seemed like the right moment to confront it.

“Alastor,” You called.

He wordlessly sat on his chair, his eyes peering at you curiously with the slightest tilt in his head.

“When I catch up to the number of favors I owe you, will you be off?”

Right then and there, the addictive smell of gasoline had permeated to your nose. Each millisecond that passed since you asked him, the smell of gasoline grew stronger. Normally this wouldn’t bother you, since Alastor would recently have these moments where the scent would oddly appear out of nowhere. Up until now, you haven’t figured out what the smell was.

The smell grew weaker, which stopped your senses from getting overrode with gasoline. You had a clearer mind, and a more observant eye. You saw Alastor clench his fists to the point where his own sharp nails would draw blood. His smile was strained, but since the smell had gradually disappeared, it relaxed. His pupils were constricted, having just newly transformed from small radio dials.

He tilted his head even more. “Unfortunately, my darling,” His voice was smooth, “I don’t think I’ll even be letting you go.” He said with a playful glint in his eyes.

But you knew. You were certain that he was serious, and a chill ran down your spine when you realized it. Regardless of the rather blatant red flag, you felt a tinge of relief that this deal isn’t the only thing that kept you together, and that this deal wasn’t the only thing that kept you from being just another number in his list of kills.

The two of you then proceeded to consume the pleasant meal that Alastor had made. Nothing of

It was in that moment when a seemingly insignificant event occurred. It was nothing eventful, just a small glance to the side where you left your embroidery.

The art piece was set aside, but it was in such a way that it was displayed at the back side of the lamb. Right behind the lamb was the design of a predator, snarling at the onlooker. Its canines were sharp and protruding, revealing the fact that it had recently devoured something—or rather, depending on interpretation, _someone_.

You never got to finish the art piece, but it already had a name.

 _Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing_.

~+~

From where you were, you heard a knock from the door. Normally, being the oldest in the room, you would have the job of opening the door and deciding whether to kill or to keep them, but currently you were quite occupied. “Charlie, can you be a darlin’ and open the door please?” and so she did.

You almost dropped the fridge on Angel’s foot when you felt a familiar surge of _static_ emanate in the room upon opening the door. “Hel-!” It disappeared once it shut. The door opened. “-Lo!” She shut it again. 

Before the guy could scream about losing a perfectly good leg, you snapped your fingers and your demons arose from your shadows. One of them caught the fridge and set it upright in its proper location in the room.

Charlie slammed the door shut, with her eyes wide. 

“U-Uhm, I think the Radio Demon is at the door!”

You already knew. 

The Queen was correct. She only wants her daughter safe.

A feral growl grew in your throat as you felt _danger_ in the room. _“Charlotte Magne. **Stay away from the door**.”_ You spoke, your voice distorting as you lost control of the frequency of it. Despite the urgency of the situation, you walked slowly towards the entrance. Charlie, the dear, was clueless; so, instead of uttering a word, she slid away from the entrance and walked back to Vaggie.

Every step you took had emanated a rather intimidating sound of a hoof clicking, even when you were only wearing harmless Mary Janes. Every time your heel hit the ground, dark shadows had spread out from behind you, eyes popping up in locations. Each eye opening was a disaster less. By the time you reached the door, the room’s walls were coated in every demon you’ve slain. Eyes were everywhere in the room, surveying _your_ territory.

The silhouette you saw from outside had done wonders to your progress in changing. You knew him—no, you _know_ him. His entire being was trapped in your head like it was a curse. He was your personal Hell.

You absolutely _loathe_ him.

It had only taken a tap of your foot against the marble floor to swing the door open. You look up at the familiar demon not with your hatred, but with the most dazzling, charming, glittering smile. Your eyes crinkle, hiding the resentment you have for someone who suited Hell more so than anyone in this place. “Alastor, my old _friend_ , it is such a _pleasure_ to see you on the Happy Hotel’s doorstep.” Your voice drips with an unfamiliar ring of pleasantry that would put the Queen to shame. The song in your voice had almost been convincing if everyone in the room had not really known who you were.

He only grins back, likely taking her obvious distaste in his stride. “I was almost hoping that you wouldn’t remember me, darling Lamb.” Alastor commented. _Of course,_ you would remember. Somehow, he had been your personal hell in both life _and_ death.

His words hit the target just right, yet you did not let your false smile fall. After all, one is never fully dressed without a smile, and you had made certain that you were wearing a full set of armor.

Alastor’s hands were clenched on his eyes narrowing both with a front of nicety and with hidden malice. “I am also quite glad to be on _your_ doorstep, _my little Limelight._ ” His light voice had crackled with his power, the familiar static that you once had thought was home returning to your surroundings.

You step to the side, allowing him to witness your ageless shadows for a moment before retrieving them back into your unassuming umbra. “There are no unwelcome wayward souls in our hotel.” You tell him, “Though I sincerely hope that your stay here would be _short_.”

Alastor barked out a poised yet rambunctious laughter. “Oh darling, that is if I do not enjoy the company.” Is all he said, glancing sideways at you for the briefest moment with a knowing look in his eyes, before speedily walking past you to greet the owner of the hotel.

Charlie was suddenly being pestered by a specific, red toned deer. You felt your insides boiling with an almost unholy amount of unspecific emotions as you felt your power charge up under your skin. You could almost feel the static-like power of his intrude your space, and it had taken much effort for you to keep your monsters under your control.

No one had really known who among the both of you were stronger, and no one would ever really know. The two of you were bound with a rather immature contract, and no matter how much you wanted to end his existence for your animosity, you would also end up suffering.

While it was true that a hell without Alastor was worth the sacrifice, you were also a sinner with self-preservation. You will not kill to die. You’ve already done that once in your life, and you don’t suppose that you would be fond on doing a do over.

You retreat to Angel and Vaggie’s side as Alastor attempted to woo Charlie with his outlooks and his views. As someone who knew him well, you were also quite certain that he wasn’t just here for you. Alastor would not do something so grand as this if only to deal with you, so this was likely something that was genuinely within his interests.

After all, Alastor is a smart man, and smart men do not mess with Lilith, even more so with her beloved daughter.

So you do nothing but watch as he entertains himself. You knew that there was no stopping him anyway, and you also knew that Charlie, as a whole, would be safe. You were contracted to Lilith to protect her daughter from “extreme, scarring, or useless” harm, therefore this would extend to you and Alastor’s contract to never cause damage to one another.

If you were right in your assumptions, Alastor had not really only found out about your existence from the Television-- because someone forbid that he would willingly watch the modern telly-- but he had also gotten someone’s say-so that you were somehow involved in Charlotte Magne’s business. There were many people involved in hiding your existence as the Lamb on the stage, which meant that Alastor could have finally found the right person to ask.

Of course, that was inevitable. It’s been a long while since the first portion of the deal was done with, and honestly it’s quite a shock that he’s only found you now. You were expecting him sooner, which was a relief because you have already somewhat recovered from the revelation. Regardless, you’ve always been prepared for the occasion that he would find his way back.

You knew him.

You know the smell of Gasoline.

Vaggie, in your moment of irritation, had explained to the clueless Angel Dust the tale that the general populace knew about the Radio Demon. Since making a deal with the Queen, the newer sinners had since only known about the partner-in-crime with less details than people usually knew about. The oral tradition about the Lamb died off, but the memories of those who were strong enough to remember the tragedies caused by this duo were retained in the hearts of the witnesses, the people involved, and the victims who survived.

The story Vaggie told was a simple one, centered solely on Alastor and with brief mentions of yourself. Four decades of instilled fear that would make everyone stay out of the way, and massacres that would make Angels cry, all broadcasted into the radios all throughout the world. The tone where she told Angel of his legend was rather intense, which even you felt was rather… excessive. Midway through her passionate expression of why no one should trust him, she looked at you with distrust. “How do _you_ know him?” Vaggie asked.

You only smile. “I was there, after all.” Your eyes then widened, the craze clear in your eyes. “He and I go way back, and I don’t intend to return.” There was an ominous meaning to your words, but it had caused nothing to cause Vaggie feel in danger. Even so, it had caused a chill to run through her spine.

She continued on to her tales of the Radio Demon.

“You done?” Angel asked when she concluded, none of the concern that Vaggie was likely to be expecting. The arachnid anthropomorph pointed at the Radio Demon and grinned. “He looks like a strawberry pimp!”

His comment had made you snort, almost letting out a whole laugh. Sometimes Angel’s approach to serious situations like these was something to look forward to.

Vaggie, unsurprised by his lack of concern, only crossed her arms. She sent the Radio demon a stinky eye. “Well I don’t trust him.” She declared.

You crossed your legs and sat down on the couch. “And rightfully so.” You say, also keeping an eye on Charlie. “There’s nothing wrong with keeping your guard up at all times.” She looked at you, “This is _Hell_ , after all. Trust no one.”

The shadows you owned curled around your fingers as you played with it. You send a glance at Vaggie. “Not even me.”

~+~

Time is such an easy thing to lose track of in Hell. Each second and each hour was different for each person, because there was barely any person who was alright in the head enough to even tell the time. Clocks, for some odd reason, had always been destroyed, leaving the gigantic count down in the center of the fiery city-- even then, people would lose track. They would only look up and think: ‘oh’.

You were once one of these people. Time doesn’t matter to you. What was the point of counting eternity? It’s an odd development. 

However, that never meant that you didn’t count _something_.

Three.

A body dropped to the floor, blood staining the marble floors of the once pristine entrance to a once marvelous home. The sight had been something so _usual_ to you that you didn’t even mind the blood and gore. The bloodlust that once fueled you had dispersed into nothing but absolute numbness.

As you step on the still wriggling eye, you peel off your dirtied gloves and conjure up a new one with the abilities that have been developed. You’ve lost track of how many shadows you have in your arsenal. The whispers of those you devoured had long turned into nothing but white noise.

Dull. It was dull. Meaningless. A dreaded chore.

There really was no enjoying hell, huh?

You counted it off the list. The deal between you and the _deer_ had long stopped becoming a deal of fun between you two, and more of a chore. Alastor had been way ahead of you at some point, but the gap was quickly closing. His numbers stopped rising and all there is that you have to do is to catch up. He’d ceased doing you any favors since-

There it was again. You snarl at the stench of ripped intestines that had replaced the smell of rotten flowers and metal. Another dead body. You count down to two. Counting up was no longer a thing. You were counting the bodies _down_. The moment it reaches zero is the moment you leave all that you know as the Lamb. You looked up at the stain glass windows of the home, eyes empty. You didn’t know what to expect other than nothing. He’s trapped himself in there. No matter, you’ll be the one to leave anyway.

A small bit of alarm had risen through a chill in your spine. You looked to a nearby window and saw through the reflection two red dots. How convenient. Those silly newcomers. Technology may have advanced but there was no way that they could amass the power that you have. After all, you’ve well devoured more souls than you could count.

But strong as you may have been, you don’t like taking risks anymore.

With a twitch of your finger, two hellish creatures have taken form from your shadow and spread out through the field. A second more and you felt two more souls added to your arsenal of shadows.

_Zero._

Wisps of green and lilac unwound from your wrists, and a weight that you’ve never really noticed before had lifted from your entire being. You felt lighter, and you felt free,

But you didn’t feel any better. What’s done is done.

It was true to say that ignorance is a bliss.

No matter. It didn’t matter anyway. There had been no point. From a far-off distance you could see the Countdown for the Extermination. There’s a little less than an hour left until the exterminators sweep the streets, and you were just in time.

Your shadows enveloped you, a familiar cold draping over your entire being as it brings you swiftly to the destination you desire. The sensation flowed off your body, and the sight that welcomed you was the first thing you ever saw when you arrived in here.

Though there was something off. There was a presence.

You turned around, your eyes blank as you studied the new arrival. For a brief moment, you had hoped that it was an Angel. You weren’t about to fight it. You were welcoming what it would do to a demon.

However, it hadn’t even taken a second to recognize such a sinful existence.

Curled red lips, snow-like skin that put your wool to shame, platinum hair curled around intimidating horns, and dark eyes so full of intent. You watched aimlessly as she held out a hand and spoke to you with a mellifluous voice laced with the most unsuspecting poison. “Would you like to make a deal, _wolf_?”

~+~

Vaggie was speaking to Charlie, while Alastor had taken this time beside you—pestering you.

“My! This place is a mess!” Alastor had commented out of the blue. He turned around to face you, his smile taunting. “Darling, I was expecting better from you.” He says, faking a gasp.

You smile back, unwavering in your confidence despite the attack on your pride. “You have to understand, valued _guest_ , that right when you had come to visit I had been in the process of cleaning this hotel.” Humbly, you bow your head. “If the sight is rather unpleasant for you, there is always an option to _leave_.” You gestured to the door gracefully.

Charlie was understandably confused while she both listened to Vaggie and your loud exchange. She was rather unused to the excessive amounts of passive-aggressiveness that the both of you were expressing. It was quite a whiplash from the rather infuriated and intense moment when you had told her to stay away from the door.

Alastor had only laughed. “Ah, but you see, I intend to _help_! I have so much in mind for this hotel, and it has so much potential!” He laughed, the static crackling. “Unfortunately, however, it’s being hindered.” He eyes you with a smug look.

You maintained your smile. “Again, if there’s a problem, you always have the option to _leave_.”

The two of you looked at each other in the eyes, neither one wavering in the defense which is your smiles. It was only simultaneously broken when you both felt Charlie approach. He took a step back, and you turned away from him to speak to Charlie.

“Repeat to me what your father says to you?”

“We don’t take any shit from other demons!” She smiled, confidence in her small frame as she said it out loud.

“And what do I say?”

She looked a bit sheepish now. Charlie said, in a less proud voice, and in a quieter voice. “Unnecessary deals are for pussies and we don’t touch them?” She said, unsure.

You send a smug look at Alastor whose eye twitched at you. “Good girl.” You grin, before stepping aside to let Charlie pass.

The exchange was both pleasant and painful to look at since the gap between Alastor and Charlie’s own strength was rather clear. Though it was wonderful to witness Charlie stand her ground when it came to her beliefs, and you felt pride that she was able to keep her integrity despite the intimidating presence before her. Besides, putting aside that this was the Radio Demon, Charlie had someone equally demonic by her side and that was you.

She declared that she would let him help, no ‘creepy, voodoo strings attached’.

“So it’s a deal then?” He purred. Alastor let out his hand, swirls of green light spreading from his palm to the surroundings. The sheer pressure caused by the notion of a deal had caused for a strong gusts of wind to nearly blow away Vaggie and Angel. Without much effort, you grasped onto their arms to keep them on their feet.

Even the smallest damaging effects of Alastor’s magic was prohibited on you due to your deal with him.

Easy to say, you were quite pleased to see her turn down Alastor’s offer of a deal. “Nope! No shaking! No deals!” She pushed back his hand. “As princess of hell and heir to the throne, I hereby order that you help with this hotel for as long as you desire. Sound fair?”

Alastor shrugged. “Fair enough!”

There were a lot of things that had happened in the next few moments. He bothered Vaggie, was bothered by Angel, brought in two new ‘staffs’, Nifty and Husker; danced with Charlie with an ensemble of his own demons playing some music (You remember this band. He killed them since they were sent to murder you that one time when you two went into a restaurant).

Right now, he was still enjoying his number with Charlotte. You stayed by the side, in an area where you nullified the effects of his powers. You were here with Husker, since Vaggie didn’t want to leave Charlie alone with the singing Radio Demon, Nifty was occupied with the pleasantries of his magic, and Angel was enjoying the ‘party’. You and your old acquaintance had developed a preference for the quiet.

“So, you’re back, kid.” He stated, raising an eyebrow.

“No.” You answered. “He is.” Is what you answered briefly. You turned to him. “If you want, you can leave. I can back you up with that.”

“Nah.” He said nonchalantly. “I don’t really care where the fuck I get placed—I’ve lost a damn ages ago.”

You smiled bitterly as you watched the neon colored show before you. Charlie looked happy. “It was better when you don’t remember, huh?”

He took a moment to respond. “Yeah.”

Alastor’s little number was short-lived when an explosion caused portions of the wall to get blown off. In this bout of surprise, the magic he cast on the hotel was drawn back to him. For the briefest moment you were able to see his anger slip through. Radio dials, the twitch of his smile.

It was a surprise that you haven’t forgotten.

Without much caution, you walked past the doorway to meet the reason of the hotel’s minor destruction. The light caused by whatever machine sent the projectile had caused your shadow to be more prominent. Even as a killing intent had seeped into your heart, you restrained yourself from swallowing this machine whole.

You _hate_ this new technology. It was stupid how they think technology and their ‘science’ could overwhelm the sheer power of sin in Hell. For pleasantries, sure, but destruction due to small things like these make you want to engrain into their small brains the true impact of the power you could achieve through killing—through _swallowing_ your enemies whole.

But you stop yourself.

“Well, well, well!” A snake man taunted with an obnoxious voice. He was one of scales—tough skins to bite through but equally as pleasing to kill. “Look who it is harboring the striped _freak_!” His eyes glanced over to you, and a look of surprise came over his features. “And look over here, the wolf in sheep’s clothing.”

Your eyes darkened, the need to kill nearly overwhelming you.

“We meet yet again, my foes!” He pointed at the two of you.

“Do I know you?” Alastor tilted his head, mocking this snake.

He took the bait, going on about ‘surprise’. He went back into his ship, doing whatever it was that he wanted to do.

It would have been so easy. Just a snap. Just a twitch. Killing this one and adding him to your arsenal of shadows would have been so _effortless_. You miss it. You miss the blood. You want to kill him. You want to sever his limbs apart one at a time, and listen to the scrumptious sound of his screams with the undertones of his bones cracking and flesh ripping. You want to gouge out his eyeballs with your bare hands, and pop it. It would have been such a beautiful sight.

You snap out of it when a hand held yours. Without even looking, you knew it was Charlie.

In less than an instant, your lust for blood was drowned out with guilt. It was there again. It never disappeared. You haven’t really changed.

Right when your shadows retracted from inching into the ship, a snap could be heard from beside you. You turn towards the sound and see Alastor who had equal bouts of bloodlust in his eyes. His eyes were unstable as the sound of static had become nearly unbearable for the ears. Sigils you were familiar with was floating around him, glowing with the power he had.

He clenched his hands, drawing blood that was used to feed his power.

It didn’t take long before the ship was crushed into nothing, leaving no evidences of the snake behind. Everyone save you was surprised at the display of strength and power that the Radio Demon had. You only looked at the scene without much of an expression of anything, since it was a type of chaos that you were quite used to.

Alastor looked at you with unreadable eyes, the smell of gasoline permeating in the air. His let his hand unclench as the faintest light of green swirled with bits of lilac had circled around his wrist. The sight of it had caused your chest to constrict, unnoticeable to anyone who didn’t know. Around your own wrist was the same light, causing you to feel dread for once in the longest time. You look back at him with disbelief, and for once fear. He looked like he was taking it in, enjoying it even more as the scent of gasoline grew stronger and thicker in the air around you.

“ _One._ ”


	7. The Twist

Charlie had called both yourself and Alastor into something she had called the ‘Consultation Room’. She needed to address the dynamic the both of you have, and quite frankly it was rather concerning for the morale of those who were interested in the hotel to witness two nearly omnipotent demons going at each other’s throats with odd weapons and jabs that could make any mother cry.

So here you are, seated on a chair adjacent to Alastor’s and facing Charlie who was seated in front of the both of you with her crossed arms resting on the desk. She seemed very awkward in the face of forementioned omnipotent demons, but her authority was still recognized by the two demons (no matter how little it mattered to the both of them anyway). “Well, as the owner of this hotel, I say this on behalf of the current and future tenants. I need the both of you to… calm down with all your creepy vibes?” She seemed unsure with the wording, but the meaning was clear to the both of you.

Don’t make it obvious that one of you wants to kill the other.

It’s only been a day. If you still knew Alastor from the decades that you’ve known him, the pettiness can only go worse from here.

“Do not fret, demon belle!” Alastor chirped, his ever-present smile tilting upwards more as if it was sincere. “I do not think it could get any calmer than this with the lack of control your friend has!”

You tilt your head. “I apologize if I seem agitated at an obviously unwanted presence.” Charlie eyed you, practically pleading that you don’t continue. “I think it could be solved if the mentioned, unwanted demon had left of their own accord.”

Alastor cheerfully slapped the arms of the chair. “Well, you heard it darling!” He grinned at Charlie. “The lamb is filing for a leave!”

Before you could snap back at him, Charlie clicked at the bell she conveniently had on the table. The sound was a high pitched one, ringing at both you and Alastor’s ears. It had effectively temporarily shut you both up. “The both of you, please?” Charlie fiddled with her thumbs while she tried to keep direct eye contact between you. “Isn’t there a way for the both of you to get along?”

“No.” The two of you deadpan.

Charlie sighed. “Listen, I will be honest with the both of you this early on, before we get any further than this.” She motioned at you, then at Alastor. “Lamby, Al, I really, _really_ would like for the both of you to at _least_ tolerate each other.” She stood up from her seat and moved to the front of the desk for her to lean back. Standing up meant that she was towering over the seated figures, and that meant that she would be more intimidating and seem more in power—her father taught her that. “I’m afraid that it would ruin a lot of core functions of this hotel.”

You managed to catch Charlie’s eyes while it flickered from Alastor’s, and you could recognize that she was scared. It wasn’t a fear that one feels for oneself, rather it was a specific fear that you could only ever recognize from your little Lottie.

Then it made sense, somewhat, that this was just a front. She wasn’t using her authority as a princess just for the hotel. She was scared that the two of you would destroy each other—she was afraid to lose a friend, especially to such a cruel Hell.

You’ve been her friend for nearly two decades, and you’d forgotten to mention something important that she should have known from the start. The girl still doesn’t know about the second portion of your deal with Alastor.

She looked nervously between the both of you, and quite honestly you felt ashamed that you let her feel this way in the first place! You shouldn’t have minded the presence of Alastor at all, but you felt _frightened_. You could feel the weight of your deal on your shoulders, and you had tricked yourself all this time to think that you were clear of him.

But above all of that, your priority now was your little Lottie.

You unclenched your teeth despite the fact that you were tempted to snap them at the neck of a deer, and you smiled truthfully to your precious friend. Your dread of Alastor’s presence for a brief moment had dulled in comparison to how much you care for your Lottie. “Charlie, darling. There is no need to be afraid.” You said boldly, despite the heavy stare of Alastor resting on you.

“I’m not afraid at all!” She said not very convincingly. “I am just a bit worried.” Well, it was almost the truth. “There’s already quite a bit of… _destruction_ with Vaggie and Angel. You’re normally relatively less harmful, but I’m sorta concerned about the… chemistry… in the room…” She said, fiddling with her fingers with her eyes downcast.

“If you are afraid that _he_ ,” your eyes met his for a second, and back to hers. “and I would rip at each other and destroy everything you’ve built, then you have nothing to fear.” –about the first part, that is. Destroying the hotel is very much still something Alastor would be able to do even with the deal holding him back.

Alastor seemed to know where this was going, and he grinned wide. You had a feeling that he would play along, but not for the same reasons as yourself. “It is true, darling demon belle!” He said cheerfully, stealing her attention. “She and I are… _contractually bound_ not to harm each other in any way, shape, or form.” He said.

As if proof of your arrangement, he raised his wrist, and upon his will there was a whisp of your own magic curled around it and securing him. You had done the same, and the familiar, eerie curse of green had been wrapped around yours.

Charlie frowned at the sight of a familiar chain bound around your wrist, only this time it was of a different hue. Even at her displeasure, you could notice the slight bit of relief in her eyes as the sight of the contract’s binds finally sunk in.

“So there is no need to worry, Lottie.” You said, patting her head. “It _is_ within my power that the future of this hotel is not tarnished.” Those words were not solely for Charlie.

Right on cue, there was an evidently loud crash that could be heard from outside the kitchen and likely within the hallways outside the dining room. Faintly, Vaggie could be heard chasing something while cursing in a language you’re still not quite familiar with. “I… think I oughta go check that!” She excused herself and rushed out of the room, leaving both you and Alastor in the same room.

You assume that this means you’re dismissed.

~+~

Since your entrance to Hell’s High Society, you have been well acquainted with many a sinful nobility and their children. That also included your (unwilling) hours of learning etiquette from the Queen herself who will not stand to have anyone less than worthy beside her only child. Those etiquette lessons had come into use when you had been there to chaperone a decade old Charlotte Magne in a small party held by the Goetic Prince of Hell, Stolas, for his daughter’s birthday.

You closely followed behind Charlotte as she entered the rather large estate owned by the host of the party. The luxury did not quite impress you, yet you seemed quite amused by Charlotte who seemed so amazed by this place, considering that she literally owned a _palace_ specifically given to her by her own father as her third birthday gift (which she rarely even stays in at all, since she liked living beside her dad). It was a wonderful sight and it certainly made the dreadful practice of etiquette slightly better to bear at all.

Greeting you by the door was the presence of a tall demon whose features strongly resembled that of an owl’s. His clothing was rather fanciful, blatantly displaying his nobility to anyone who would see. Two pairs of glowing pink eyes had trained itself on you and the child in front of you.

“Ah! The Magne Princess!” Stolas welcomed once her once you had taken your sixth step into the home. Charlotte and Stolas had curtsied and bowed respectfully to each other. “It truly is wonderful for you to attend my daughter’s birthday party!” He said with a smile.

There was quite a lot of doubts in your head that anything would displease him, as long as it did not displease his daughter. His high spirits had made it less of a dreadful social event, thankfully. He turned his gaze towards you, and he had smiled. The glint of his amusement was not hidden in his gaze. “Ah! I had been surprised about the news that a certain Overlord had gone missing in action.” He began.

“Greetings, your highness.” You said politely, bowing your head.

Once you looked up, he looked rather struck. “I admit, your submission to me is quite surprising for a post-mortal sinner.” He said. “Your fame has reached the ears of many. Even in your time among the living you had been quite the amusing subject.” There was no malice in his tone, for it seemed that he was genuinely at awe that someone such as you is before him. He knows, and no doubt many other does, of the sin that you had committed in life, and the punishment you got in your time in Hell. He sounded amused, which had enraged you to an extent. How dare he find the life you abhor and long for as something of a pastime? It is not for the undeserving to hear as if it was a weekly radio broadcast. The disrespect is uncalled for, despite his stand in royalty.

Before you had been able to say a word, your little Lottie had pulled your hand. “Forgive me, Stolas, but I do not quite like this topic myself.” Lottie had spoken for you. Without a doubt, she had this look in her eye that had bordered on concern for you, and indignance. Charlotte has a heart of gold, and honestly you had no clue where she had gotten it from at all.

“I apologize, Princess, Lamb.” He said, taken aback. He had quickly regained his composure. “I did not quite think that this would be a sore topic. Please excuse me.” Stolas stood straight, his shoulders squared and chest out. “Now, I do think that the past is past, as the mortals say it!”

Charlotte, satisfied with the apology, had her eyes caught on a specific green-clad Demon. “Sev!” Charlotte let go of your hand and ran towards someone you recognized as Seviathan von Eldritch. You never liked that young man, so you were about to approach her before you had been stopped by Stolas.

He had an easy smile, and his intentions had been pure when he called for you. “It would do me a great honor if you could greet my daughter Octavia. She is quite a fan.”

You raised an eyebrow. You had smelled nothing but infidelity from him though you were quite certain that it was not towards you. He bears no ill will, nor was he lying. It seemed to be just a genuine attempt to make his daughter happy (or happier, seeing how her day is right now). “Would that be alright, your highness?”

“Of course. Formalities and status aside, my daughter would genuinely love to meet such an esteemed character.”

You nodded. “Then I see no reason not to.” You turn your head towards two of Charlotte’s bodyguards. “Razzle, Dazzle, make sure that no harm comes to the Princess while I am gone.” For extra measure, you’ve planted one of your shadows on Charlotte.

“Shall we?”

With a nod, he had directed you towards one of the upper floors where the birthday girl had likely been getting ready for her party. “You mention that she is quite a fan.”

He hummed in agreement.

“Would it be alright to ask why?”

“The politics in your circle of Hell has been something she’s been rather enamored with ever since she’s heard stories about your rise to fame” You wince, remember exactly who it was that made that possible. “Gruesome as it may have been, clearing out the rather awful and disrespectful batch of Overlords prior to your falling _is_ quite an inspiring feat. Hell has been much more… _organized_ with the population control being properly handled by our own.” He said. “She is quite young, but already so well-versed in politics. Did you know she takes Demonic Sociology at this age?”

You attempt to let all of it sink in. He said quite a lot. While it is normal to be revered for the murder of many, it is still quite a shock to know the thoughts of such a young girl, one around Charlotte’s age especially. “How advanced.” There was no comment from you on the matter about Octavia’s fascination for your apparent pest control. You decide to comment on something else. “You’re quite a doting father.”

Stolas had chuckled. “I am, aren’t I?” He had a fond smile on his face as he thought of his beloved daughter. “There are quite a few things that can bring anyone true happiness in Hell.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eye as he looked ahead. “I do have your word that my affections for my daughter will not be at all held against me, correct?”

On any normal occasion, you would question their audacity in asking you something like this seeing that they were _also_ in hell. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to blame him, since this was his daughter. “Of course. I will not dare harm a child.” There was an amused glint in your eye. “Especially not such a devoted fan of mine.” You jest.

He hummed, seemingly satisfied by the answer.

You both came to a stop when you come across a door in the hallway. He knocked at the door. “Octavia, darling! Someone special wants to greet you!” Stolas called.

A soft pattering of feet could be heard getting louder as it approached the door from the other side. Not a second more and the door opened, revealing to you the birthday girl. She was a young girl, one whose height had nearly

Her expression had shifted from glee, confusion, recognition, and utter awe as she saw you. “The Lamb!” She squealed, before quickly recognizing that she had forgotten herself. She collected herself before bowing gracefully before you as she coughed. “I-I mean, greetings!”

“No need for formalities!” You giggled, looking at the adorable little thing. “Gosh, you’re quite an accomplished lady aren’t you, Miss Octavia?”

This made Octavia rather flustered, her cheeks flushed and red from the sudden compliment.

“Thank you!”

Stolas, seemingly satisfied, had stepped closer towards Octavia. “Well, Via, do you still wish to speak with the Limelight?”

You wince at the familiar name. You haven’t heard that name since you’ve left the battle for Alastor to enjoy on his own. Hearing it now had been like someone had touched at a wound that had still been in the middle of healing. You understood that Stolas meant no offense by it. “Please call me by literally any other nickname.”

Octavia’s eyes glittered. “Of course! Of course to both!” She said, enthusiastic at the notion. “I have quite a lot of questions, and honestly I would have asked you if you were easier to find at all!”

The Goetic Prince chuckled. “I will be leaving you two to it then!” He smiled at Octavia.

Before he left, his eyes had a knowing look on it as he stared at you. “I am aware of the circumstances of your three deals, Lamb. Your third deal is the only one that leaves me to believe that you cannot harm my child under any circumstances.” Stolas spoke in a low tone, so that Octavia cannot hear. “You harm my child, and I will _decimate_ theirs. Royalty be _damned_.” With that, he walks away, waving at his daughter who had still been staring at you with starstruck eyes.

~+~

Jambalaya. You did not miss this meal at all, since it reminded you of a time when you had been so hopelessly naïve despite all the power you’ve accumulated. Originally, in your earlier times in hell, Jambalaya was a delicacy both you and Alastor shared in those brief moments where you could be normal, but now it tasted dry, and salty. Suddenly you could taste all the faux vegetables and the meat that had been without a doubt other demons posed as animals.

You do not doubt it would taste bad, now with your memories in life.

You did not trust Alastor at all, and neither did Vaggie. Charlie had kept beside her girlfriend in attempt to continuously soothe her frustration that _another_ dangerous entity that could potentially destroy everything and everyone they loved had resided within the hotel. It was a hotel they had built in hopes to make Hell at least a slightly better place with less people executed and more people being sent up there—but with Alastor practically attached to Charlie and yourself at the hip, it would have made it a rather difficult and perilous task.

“It’s been a while since I have seen you help in the kitchen.”

“It’s been a while since I’ve had the displeasure of seeing a boorish face.”

And it did not help at all that both dangerous and frightening entities had been at odds with each other (unfortunately quite literally). Charlie was well aware at the stakes but honestly what else could she do? Without much of a leash on both of them, the hotel she made had basically been turned into a fighting ring for their aggressiveness towards each other. She could only hope that it would remain on the more passive rather than the more destructive side.

“Jambalaya, huh? I don’t think I have ever tasted such a thing!” There was a forced cheerfulness in Charlie’s voice as she attempted to make the situation lighter than now. She was trying to make for a cheerful conversation.

Alastor looked as if he was horrified (as much as his odd smile could have permitted) and you thought you looked rather smug. “Do not worry, Lottie.” You smiled. “You’re not really missing much.”

He did not miss the filthy side-eye you gave him. Alastor faced you, and one of his eye had twitched. It was a wonderful sight and you could not get enough of it, quite honestly. “I will have you know that it is an absolute _sin_ to not have tried Jambalaya, especially under my hand.” He responded to Charlie, yet his attention was not to the child.

“Amusingly enough, Alastor, this is one of the rare occasions where I look forward to remaining a demon in Hell.”

You were not fazed by the cutting board getting stabbed through with a knife, nor by the fact that this cutting board was dangerously close to where your hand had been resting. “Then it is quite a shame that you still reside in a hotel that rehabilitates _sinners_.” He said.

“I like food!” Charlie butt in.

“So do I, little Lottie, but I really think we could have better options.”

“Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone in this room is more belonging than I.”

“Says a lot about a nameless radio star’s demise.”

Another knife had barely nicked your ear, sinking into the wall right behind you. It didn’t faze you one bit, since there were two parts of the deal and one of them would always be in your favor. “I wouldn’t call me _nameless_.” He laughed, but the malice was practically dripping from his lips. “My death was mourned by many and I was remembered as a good man, quite unlike yours.”

“My death was, dare I say, merciful, mind you.” You smiled blissfully, yet the glint in your eyes was sharp with intent to mock. “I like to think we both got what we deserved.”

Vaggie tensed, and Charlie backed away from the both of you. Hell normally had no boundaries, but it was a wordless agreement that it would be wise to never mention the denizen’s deaths. For one, many do not recall the way they died, and for another, many did not want to remember. It’s a sore topic for most.

Being as old as Alastor and yourself, however, meant that these hellish social cues were some of the things that were inferior in the face of larger problems—such as this alarming scent of gasoline and this stupid deal that should have been done with decades ago.

Even so, it did not mean that it wasn’t something you both would prefer to talk about.

This resulted in Alastor stepping closer towards you, the static in the air causing for the people in the room feel a chill run down their spine. You did not back down. He had mocked your death _first_. You had only mentioned his life, and since he had stepped beyond the line first it was only right for you to join him. You let your powers flow free to an extent, intending on intimidating him back. Charlotte had mentioned once that when you were letting your powers free, everyone in the room felt as if they were suffocating. It was ironic in a sense.

You both were arguably equally powerful. The only reason that the entirety of hell hasn’t been decimated by the both of you is because you are never allowed to have the chance to test yourselves out on each other in accordance to the deal you have so foolishly made. So technically, there was no point in this other than to actively express your undying (funny) animosity for one another.

While it would have been pleasing to let it all free, Charlotte and Vaggie were in the same room and you doubted that they would get out of this as unharmed as the both of you more experienced demons.

Alastor seemed to have noticed this as well, and he stepped back. “Touché.” Is all he said. He shrugged and turned back towards the meal he was preparing. “I don’t suppose getting mauled on by hounds is preferable to what you’ve experienced.” There was another jab, but you decided to let it be.

You hummed. “Well I suppose that’s one other thing I have over you.”

He hummed back, acting as if everything that had happened within 10 minutes did not occur.

Vaggie, who seemed suddenly ill at the sudden change of air, had waved it off and merely walked out of the room without a word. Charlie had hesitated a bit when she left and looked back at the two of you who had acted so casually. “What you two said in the consultation room, it still stands no matter what.” She said. “I can leave you both here without any issues, right?”

Well, it _is_ technically true.

Your eyes met Alastor’s, clashing in mutual aggressiveness. “I don’t see a problem with that.” You said forcefully, wherein Alastor had hummed in agreement.

“Well then! I guess I’ll be seeing you two after dinner.” Charlie said cheerfully, before following after Vaggie without hesitation.

Alastor tilted his head. and continued to slice the faux vegetables he usually added into his meals. You did not mind his apparent mindlessness of the prevailing issue at hand, because you know his ears work perfectly fine.

“If you harm anyone in this hotel, I will not forgive you again.”

“You didn’t forgive me the first time, Lamb.” He said, the age-old nickname cold on his lips despite the warm façade he attempted to present to everyone. “Even so, believe me that it is not my intention to harm anyone—not even you.” The smile had grown wider, which had irked you even more. “And since when in our time in Hell have I been known to lie? I would truly not _want_ for your bliss to be disturbed.”

There was a dark smile on your lips while you crossed your arms. There was no use for defensiveness. In here, you are equals. His count is as high as yours, you remind yourself. No, rather this situation was rather amusing, in a sense. You did not want him here, but what were the chances that it all became this way because of an uncharacteristic naivety of yours. “And since when has peace been your intention?”

He laughed. “Oh darling, I never said I was here for peace.” Alastor then hummed. “You also know very well yourself that peace will inevitably fall when you or I are within reach. I do not say that I want for it to happen, I just want to see what does occur.”

“Then what is it that you want here?”

“I am afraid that this will be your problem to find out; since, I do not dare assume that we are on terms where we disclose such meaningless things to each other.” He laughed again, which irked you quite a bit. It was true, though. You doubt that he would answer your questions willy nilly.

You took a knife and threw it at his direction. It was no secret, what you did, but Alastor did not even flinch when the knife had nearly cut just a single strand of his hair. The knife landed on the wall he was facing, which he only glanced up at with disinterest before resuming to what he would say was his ‘duties’. “I honestly do not understand your animosity towards me, darling!” He chirped, “As far as I am concerned, even in life I had not harmed you once!”

“If that is the case, then you had very little concerns in your life.” You snapped.

Alastor shrugged. “I suppose that is true, since I still cannot comprehend what drove you away from me decades ago.” He glanced at you, his eye glinting at the mention of your interaction in your lives. Alastor dropped what he was doing and walked towards you. “In any case, I’m supposed to be holding this amusing little grudge, seeing that it wasn’t _I_ who murdered the other party, darling.” His smile had been less sinister, but it remained cunning and sharp. You could drown in the smell of gasoline, which you understood to be disgusting. There was no comprehending this smell at all, nor the sudden strength of his intent.

You were suddenly thankful that your sense of smell had been dulled when it comes to him, else you would have suffered decades of nausea.

“It’s almost a shame that I barely knew you in your life _when you had so horrendously ended mine_.”

It was malicious, this scent. It had always baffled you how this was always such a redundant scent when he was in your presence, and it came in odd waves so you could never really know what triggers it. If this was a scent that even _you_ could smell from him, then the feeling or intent that he had been keeping in his very soul must have been offensively potent. Decades have passed, and the fear of being unable to understand such a _monster_ was still prominent in the back of your mind.

He stepped closer, nearly leaning over you with his height. “Maybe if I did, I would have understood your determination in staining your claws with my blood knowing full well we would meet in these fiery pits.” Alastor tilted his head curiously, his hand reaching out towards your face. The scent had nearly drowned you, swallowing your mind whole and tempting you to succumb to it. “Maybe I would have understood your determination in trying to get rid of such a wonderful part of your afterlife.”

For decades now, you had wanted to ask why he had made the deal with you. You did not understand his intentions at all. He should have killed you ages ago, when he first pulled you out of the streets and into that little hole he was hiding in. Alastor could have tortured you, do to you what you had done to him in life, but he had done the deal. He always remembered all of it, yet he had done nothing to harm you.

You had wanted to ask so many things but understanding such a disgusting mind was something you hated more than the lack of knowledge of the situation. If you were to understand him, you feared that you would become just like him.

He was about to say something else—he was about to _do_ something but before he could, you had already turned your back towards him and headed out of the kitchen. He is plenty capable of managing his own in his kitchen, and you are plenty capable of remaining in control of yourself in this situation.

Before leaving the room, you were able to smile back at him, your eyes faintly glowing as your anger continued to boil from within. “I am afraid that this will be your problem to find out;” You quoted, lacing poison into your voice as you spoke. “since I do not dare assume that we are on terms where we disclose such meaningless things to each other.”

With that, you close the door behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! It's been a while since I've posted a n y t h i n g. :sobbing: 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! I apologize if the pace is quite quick, or if there are some errors timeline wise, because honestly this fic was supposed to be just 5 chapters aksldfjlaskjdf then i sorta just had idea after idea and I just wanted to fit it a l l. Then I scrapped some things off, and now I would like to announce that I have a legit final plot a n d the ending! 
> 
> Yay!
> 
> Unfortunatelythatdoesn'tmeanI'llbeupdatinganyfasterimsosorryDAJFLKSDJFKDJSAF


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